


Golden Tiger, Silver Spider

by Conduitstreetcat, TheGreenFaerie



Series: Golden Tiger, Silver Spider [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Cave, Crossword Puzzles, Fandom Trumps Hate, M/M, Murder, Old Age, Retirement, Second honeymoon, mormor, the usual sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:53:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 69,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conduitstreetcat/pseuds/Conduitstreetcat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenFaerie/pseuds/TheGreenFaerie
Summary: Contrary to expectation and all the laws of probability, man, and nature, Jim Moriarty and Sebastian Moran have lived to retirement age.However, suggesting retirement to the second most dangerous man in London is not something to undertake lightly...As requested by the amazing Hibernia1, who won our Fandom Trumps Hate auction!This is so far a sweet, light-hearted, romcom that is proving soothing balm against Mormor angst in our other fics and the dumpster fire that is 2020! Fluff to be consumed at your own risk - FaerieCat will not be responsible for any dentistry bills.A growing playlist for this story can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3clJAFt00kLPkqIcUW5vkV?si=2FId0X9HSx-rvf7PfQfHcw
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Series: Golden Tiger, Silver Spider [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111100
Comments: 56
Kudos: 38
Collections: FaerieCat Mormor, Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	1. If Not Now, When?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hibernia1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibernia1/gifts).



_"We're going to retire."_

_You look up at me, your eyes large behind your reading glasses. "What?"_

_"We're going to retire, Tiger.”_

My mouth drops open. "You _can't_ be serious..."

You just look back with a raised eyebrow.

Yes Jim, I know... you can do whatever you want, and we all just have to march to your tune.

Only, I have a mouth made for sass (amongst other things) and I'm not afraid to use it.

"Because of the thing yesterday with those fuckheads? I'm _fine_. And they're _dead_ ," I say wryly. "So you clearly don't have to worry about me..."

You cross your arms, staring at me intently.

"I'm a hard fucker to kill, baby... You _know_ this..." I say, trying to sound casual and ignore the racing of my heart. I won't be put out to pasture. I _won't_.

_"I know. By rights you should have been dead before you even reached thirty. And *somehow* your legendary luck and skill have seen you through - and me. But. Your luck won't last forever. And you're *sixty-seven*, Tiger. How many more times do you think you're going to be fast enough to not be shot?"_

_I can see you turn red with anger - oh god darling I *know*..._

_"Sebby. You're the fastest, meanest motherfucker on the planet. I know it. You know it. Everybody who's ever met you or met anyone who's met you knows it. How much longer do you need to prove it?"_

Your words are scoring my pride now... I’m feeling terribly exposed by all this, and _not_ in a good way...

“SO you want the fastest, meanest motherfucker on the planet to stay home and _what_? Take up knitting?” I growl. “In this little retirement scenario, what pray tell do you see me doing? Gardening and forgetting where I put my glasses?”

I shake my head. “Not going to happen. But I can take on less dangerous work if it would make you feel better...” I say graciously, and light up a cigarette. I take a long drag, and flick ash into the little ashtray we picked up in Mexico last summer.

_This is one aspect of marriage that I'll never get used to. But all articles online say it's essential to communicate and compromise, rather than just telling your husband he'll bloody well do as he's told._

_To be fair, you do usually bloody well do as you're told. But your retirement has been a bone of contention for many years._

_When I discovered love, its faithful companions guilt and worry were close behind, and refused to let themselves be shaken. And they would not get less. I think I've largely dealt with guilt, though it still flares up when I have a bad mood, but worry... god._

_In the beginning I couldn't let you out of my sight without fretting. Later it got less, but - it doesn't make sense to let your husband put himself in the way of bullets when he's bloody 67. We have plenty of money - we could buy a small country to retire in, or even a large one. Except for you and your *bloody* adrenaline addiction._

_I sigh._

_This is ridiculous. Neither of us should have seen this side of fifty. And here we are, in our sixties, and still going strong. Shouldn't we count our blessings and stop putting ourselves in harm's way while we still can?_

_"Sebastian. For the past few years, you've agreed to only bodyguard when I go somewhere. What if I don't go anywhere any more? What if we retire, somewhere nice where you can do your outdoor stuff - Iceland in summer, Mexico in winter, and you - I don't know - wrestle walruses or something for excitement?"_

I scoff. “Really? _That’s_ what comes to mind?”

I snigger despite my annoyance. “You’re ridiculous. And are you actually saying _you_ would retire? Dearest Kitten... you’d be climbing the walls within a week...” I say smugly. Hah. Got you.

You stare back at me steadily.

Wait...

“You’re not seriously considering this, are you...” I say dubiously.

_Are you?_

_“Retiring from the public spotlight. Let Matt take over. He’s a good kid. I’ll focus on being the genius behind the scenes, as it were. And I *know*, I know that means that *I* still get to work and *you* don’t and it’s not fair but I’ll point out that retirement age is 67 and not 61, that you’ve shot more than enough people for one lifetime, and that you can do that nature stuff that you like so much, and I can’t._

_I don’t know, you could run... training camps for promising young recruits? Show them how to shoot properly rather than that fake gangster stuff? Teach them how to break into a house without waking everyone?_

_In fact, that’s a gap in the market... perhaps we could open it up for well-paying clients from all over... SAS training camp for the criminally inclined...”_

I consider this, scowling.

“So basically... you _wouldn’t_ be retired. And I would have a work hobby? I want to do security work for you, and for the Empire... not teach idiot criminals with delusions of becoming badasses...”

Grudgingly I imagine barking orders at men and kicking the shit out of them... making them sweat, bleed, vomit, cry... It sounds strangely enjoyable.

But I can’t help feeling perturbed at where this conversation is headed. If I relent, I’ll have lost a central part of my identity... then what??

My mouth tightens into a line. “Hard no, Kitten.”

_I knew this was going to be a fight. But I've never entered into a fight I didn't win._

_"Sebastian. We've talked about this many times. You can't keep throwing yourself into the line of fire, because one day the fire is going to be faster than you are. It's the facts of life. It's like when you didn't want to get reading glasses - your eyes didn't stop getting worse just because you stubbornly refused._

_Your knee locks up sometimes - what if that happens when you're in a fight?"_

_I decide to try a different tactic._

_"I *panicked* back there. If you'd got hit - if I'd *lost* you -" my voice wavers. And it's not acted - the memory does make my throat constrict. "Fucking hell Seb, I'm *not* going to sit here and watch you be a badass until life out-badasses you! We made an agreement - we'll die in our nineties of a simultaneous heart attack during hot sex!_

_Fuck's *sake* Seb! Can't you see - it would *kill* me if I lost you! I can't! You're - everything-"_

_Damn it. Stop breaking, voice._

You’re just getting going, aren’t you... and you aren’t just going to drop this, I can tell...

I’m preparing to launch into a counterargument as soon as you stop to take a breath. And then... your voice is wavering.

Shit. You’re not doing this on purpose, are you?

Stay strong, Seb...

Your vision of us dying together wraps around my heart and squeezes.

And then your voice is growing louder as you’re demanding that I consider my greatest fear - as much as it would devastate me to be without you... the thought of you being on your own...

the thought of you visiting my grave, weeping and haunted.

Oh god... the very _thought_...

I would have _failed_ you... after you told me to stop risking my life. Repeatedly.

And then your voice _breaks_.

And suddenly you’re in my arms, and I’m kissing your face all over.

“God... _don’t_ , Jim...” I plead. “I can’t bear it...”

_God, Seb - I was trying to have an *argument* here. And suddenly you're all over me, holding me and kissing me..._

_I stroke your wrist, the veins deltaing out across your hand. I know their pattern so well..._

_"Sebbie... how legendary do you want to be? You had the SAS furthest snipe record until the RT50 was invented. You once killed eight guys with your bare hands. You've walked away from firefights against overwhelming odds. You've stolen the Queen's Cairngorm brooch. You've *punched* James Moriarty. You're as mythical as I am in the Empire. People tell stories to frighten their children."_

_I shake my head._

_"Just - let me live with that legend for thirty more years, rather than burying him..."_

My eyes are wet with tears, and I turn my head and rest my cheek against your shoulder.

I force myself to imagine a scenario I've been avoiding facing for a while now - one where I suddenly realize I'm in over my head because of my knee - or just generally being slower or less strong than I'm used to. Maybe not next week, but next month? Six months from now?

A life or death struggle is a hell of a time to realize your body can't do what you're expecting...

And I can't do that to you...

"Alright," I surprise myself by saying. "If you're going to step back... then I'll stop bodyguarding. I'll have to think about that SAS training camp, but... if this is what you want... I'll do it." My voice is quiet.

I feel heady, and for a moment genuine fear rears up in me.

"Tell me, Jim" I whisper. "If I'm not your soldier... then what am I??"

_Oh my Sebastian... my strong loyal protector..._

_I lift up your face. Your reading glasses have slid down your nose, I look over them into your large blue eyes, damp with tears._

_I'm so sorry, my love..._

_"Sebastian... you are and will always be my soldier... my fierce Tiger. It's just that I will not go into dangerous situations any more... at least not intentionally. If anyone seeks us out and tries to kill me, I will expect nothing less than you shredding them to pieces and offering me their head on a plate. I'm not expecting you to get *soft*, Tiger..."_

"It happens to people who don't stay active, though..." I protest. "The training camp is sounding like it could help with that. The more focused I am on fighting techniques, the more it will stay in my body... just in case I need to give you someone's head on a plate, my darling..." I take your face in my hands. "Your safety and wellbeing are my top priority like always. If I do this, then - I still get the final word on all security matters that pertain to you - understood?"

_"Of course, darling..." I reply, dazed - did you actually give in? Already??_

_*Am I retiring?!?*_

_James Moriarty, spider in the centre of the web, undisputed ruler of the world - retreating from the spotlights? Letting some Scouser run the show? Guided by my hand, of course, but -_

_\- he will need to learn how to tie a tie properly, his half Windsor is a joke - the narrow end is *all over the place* -_

_Oh god -_

_I look at you halfway between a daze and a panic. I didn't expect to actually - get my way._

There's a strange look on your face, and then - panic, a ribbon of it winding around you.

I tilt my head, looking at you intently.

"Jim?" I ask. "Are you - having second thoughts?"

Hope flares through me. Neither of us has to retire. We can put this whole silly conversation to bed. "We don't _have_ to retire, if you're not ready..." I reassure you. "We can still be badasses..."

I smile wryly. "For a bit longer, anyway..."

_Fuck you and the motorbike you rode in on, Tiger. You can read me too well._

_"I'm not having second thoughts. We will have to retire *some* time, and if not now, when? When it's too late, and one of us is in a grave or wheelchair? We must have guardian devils working in shifts to have lived this long, but I don't want to give them a chance to drop the ball. You know I've been thinking about this for a *long* time - and I'm not changing my mind._

_You *are* a badass and so am I. We are the worst asses in the history of callipygia._

_Heh - we should write our memoirs - they'd sell like hot cakes - and destabilize the government..._

_And there's no reason you can't continue your training regime. You'll need to be fit to protect me..."_

_I stroke your hair, nearly all light grey now, though the rusty blond keeps stubbornly manifesting itself in rogue strands._

I smile at you adoringly as you stroke my hair.

“Oh, I’m well aware... looking out for you is my _life mission,_ Jim. It has been for thirty years, and it will be for the rest of my days. My entire life is you... you know this,” I say softly, and touch your face.

Your beautiful face... at 61, you have crow’s feet and some creases in your skin. But you’ve always had an elfin look to you that makes you appear far younger than your years. Your hair is still dark - but there’s some white along your hairline, and salt and pepper strands throughout. It looks so distinguished - like you’re a worldly professor with a wealth of knowledge that is unparalleled. You’re so bloody hot, it still takes my breath away.

I stroke your beloved face, gazing at your features. I take your hand, and hold it to my cheek.

”As long as there’s a breath in my body - it’s for you,” I whisper and press a kiss into your palm.

_My sweet loyal Tiger..._

_This went way easier than I'd have expected. You are very tractable usually, but our retirement has been a sore spot for many years now, leading to much shouting, slamming of doors, and destruction of crockery._

_I lean my head against your shoulder, briefly - my back's been playing up and it doesn't like me moving in ways that are too exotic, like leaning to the left. You've convinced me to take up yoga and it *does* help, much as I was against it at first, but having found a teacher who understands that one word about inner balance and chakras and they will find themselves leaving the house via the window helps. Just muscle stretches I can do._

_I sit back upright, my hand still in yours. Hypatia jumps onto the table and walks towards us with an inquisitive 'Prt?'_

_"Yes my dear lady, you of course will get to retire as well, from your demanding life of catching rays of sunshine and scratching the sofa," I smile and pat her head with my free hand._

_"Do you have any ideas of where you'd like to go, Tiger? We'll need to wind things down here, of course..."_

I blink at you. “You want.. to move?” I ask in disbelief. As much as we love to travel and spend time in certain countries, London has always been our base of operations. I suddenly have the sensation of being a balloon whose string has been cut by a child, and I’m floating off into the sky.

“Why do you want to move?”

_You're not looking happy with that prospect - what?_

_"I thought - you were always saying about how nice it would be to have a house somewhere in the country, where you could have a dog, and near water so you could swim, and mountains you could climb, and all that sports nonsense... rather than being 'cooped up' in an apartment in London - what - suddenly you love your pigeon loft? What about the weather? The damp isn't good for your knee; we could go somewhere warm and dry..."_

_What's this sudden attachment to bloody *London* about??_

“Because – _because_ –“ I say helplessly. “It’s all happening so fast...”

Don’t you see, Jim?

If we leave the penthouse in London _permanently_... then all this is...

 _Real_.

_Oh sweetheart..._

_"It's not happening *that* fast. We've just made the decision that we're going to retire... it will take months to hand everything over to Matt and beat him into proper shape to lead the Empire._

_Do you think we should adopt him? I mean, Sword is a great last name, but I'd like to keep the Moriarty name going..._

_Anyway, it will take time, but we'll reduce the amount of meetings where you or I need to appear in person, especially with outsiders. And we can start looking at majestic mansions to retire to. And we will keep the pigeon loft - I mean, we'll want to come back to London to take in theatre shows and dine at the Ducasse... you can't expect me to suddenly become a country yokel after living in a city all my life."_

“Country yokel?” I snigger, despite myself. “Speaking as someone who spent large swathes of his childhood at a country estate, do I seem like a yokel to you?

Don’t answer that,” I say quickly as you open your mouth. “What _you’re_ thinking of has to do with my army life... not living the high life in a majestic mansion.”

 _And_ rejecting every little thing I associate with the aristocracy, but you already know that. I think of the death of my father and how you nudged me to claim the Lordship. How _funny_ you thought it would be... for Lord Moran to be doing the work of a criminal mastermind... and being whipped and buggered by Jim Moriarty, left right and centre...

Well, funny it may have been, but I sure as hell did not want to be saddled with a title after trying to escape that part of my life for so long.

Fuck the Lordship, I think scathingly.

“Anyway... I don’t know where I want to move to; we just decided this...” A twinge of discomfort wriggles through me. I guess I imagined us still in London - it made it seem less final.

And - the thought of officially handing everything off to Mattie. I love the kid, but... this is going to take some getting used to.

“You want to give him our name?” I ask in amusement. “Is there a ceremony for such a thing? To imbue the next criminal head of an empire? Maybe we should look to the Mafia... or Romans. They love all that ceremonial hoopla...” I chuckle into your shoulder.

_"Adoption of adults was called adrogation by the Romans, and yes, they loved it... but we'd have to go to Rome and get either the populus to vote on it, or permission from the Emperor. But seeing as I am the Emperor, and London is our Rome, I'm pretty sure that we could think something up here; probably throwing him in the Thames and saying he's been baptized..."_

_Talking about it scares me a little._

_Actually, if I am honest with myself about my emotions, as I've slowly learnt to be over the years, it scares me a lot._

_Letting *someone else* take care of *my* Empire?? Every hair in my neck stands up at the thought._

_*Over my dead body.*_

_But... that's the thing, isn't it. If we *don't* retire, it *will* be over my dead body. Or, more likely, yours. And I *refuse* to let you die, Tiger._

_So we *have* to retire. And if I don't want the Empire to crumble, I will *have* to have someone who can pull its strings._

_And Matt's good. He's got your sass and some of my savvy. He could be our son - except for that atrocious accent. And his inability to tie a tie properly. I sigh._

_It's like that song you like by Iron Maiden - 'I don't want to die, I'm a god, why can't I live on?'_

_Well, I can - *we* can - but not in the bodies of the young gods we once were. You're still bloody hot, and turn the heads of people half your age, but your years being shot at and beaten up have taken their toll - your knee especially has an unfortunate tendency to lock up or swell painfully, and I know that your right hip is hurting you even though you won't tell me._

There’s a funny look on your face - like you’re going back and forth between convincing yourself this is for the best... and then feeling totally freaked out about it.

God, do I get it...

And on top of that, I feel guilty... because it’s me you’re worried about...

Fuck...

“Well, there’s no rush...” I say carefully. “We’ll do this gradually. You’ll have a timeline worked out in your mind map by the end of the day. No... make that the next hour...”

I wink and kiss you.

“I can’t wait to see the look on the kid’s face...” I chuckle.

_"Ugh," I sigh. "He's smug enough as it is. Reminds me of you. The mouth on him..."_

_You look at me with a scathing grin. "Yeah, *I* am the arrogant one in this house. Between you and Her Majesty, the hubris in this family is off the scale... I'm just the humble servant trying to keep his two Kittens happy."_

_I scowl and Hypatia gives you a look of haughty disdain._

_"That's right, my Princess. Don't listen to him. He's just a country yokel."_

_She purrs and leans into my hand until I commence scratching._

_"I'll get in touch... I should also talk to Davide and Julia, make sure they're on board. The last thing we need is a feud."_

_Matt is a shoo-in, as he's charismatic and smart, but Julia and lately Davide are close associates who have a lot of clout in the Empire. I'm pretty sure Julia will be happy with a second-in-command role if I bring it tactfully, but Davide is a bit of a hothead, which is exactly why he can't be in charge..._

_I do chuckle out loud when I see the irony in that._

I watch you as you think. God. I could never tire of this - seeing you lose yourself to thought. Then you laugh, the most delightful sound in the world - well.

A close second to your moans, orgasms, dark whispers, the sound of your whip, masterfully wielded...

Which are all tied for first.

What are the odds I can hear any of those sounds tonight?

I nudge you. “What are you laughing at, my sweet?” I murmur.

_“I was thinking Davide can’t be in charge because he’s got too much of a temper...” I smile wryly, and you snigger. “Yeah well - it’s alright having a temper, as long as you’re *also* a genius. He’s not._

_I’ll give him and Julia a call later. Are you done with the crossword? Need me to finish it off?”_

I snatch away the newspaper with feigned outrage. “Hands _off_ , darling...” I say indignantly. “I’ll let you know when I’m in need of an evil genius to finish it off...”

You smile back sweetly. Our eyes lock and you lunge for the page. My hand snaps over empty air where your wrist used to be. I look up to where you’re standing, now behind the sofa.

“A little slow today, honey?” you drawl, fanning yourself with the paper.

I laugh low in my throat and stand up. “I’ll show you _slow_ , Kitten...” I take a step towards you, grinning.

_"Careful now Tiger. You know what the doctor said. I need to watch out with my back," I grin as I move around the sofa. "You wouldn't want to hurt a poor injured man, would you?"_

_You decide on a shortcut and launch yourself over the sofa at me. I yelp, throw the paper at you. "Whitechapel Road! The answer is Whitechapel Road," I shout, darting out of the living room._

"Oh... I'll be gentle..." I growl, and slowly advance towards the sound of your muffled laughter.

When I enter the hallway that leads to your office, the gym, the library, and the storage room, I see only closed doors. I tilt my head and listen for tell-tale sounds of creaking floors, but no - you're far too sneaky for such a rookie mistake.

"Come out, come out wherever you are..." I call out softly. "Heeere, Kitten Kitten Kitten..."

_I'm being stalked by my *own* bodyguard. What has the world come to._

_I'm hiding behind the door of my office, hoping to be able to surprise you as you walk in._

_Your footsteps come closer. I'm making sure no shadow is visible through the cracks between the door and the frame. I'm even holding my breath._

_"*There* you are..."_

_You open the door, peek your head round._

_"*HOW?!* You *bloody* special forces soldiers!" I shout, exasperated._

_You grin, hold up your phone. The location tracker exactly pinpoints the location of my phone. Which is in my pocket._

You throw up your hands in mock annoyance.

Although I'm guessing at least a little of it is real... aww. My sweet psychopath, who hates to lose _any_ competition...

"So... I guess that makes you my captive..." I say innocently.

I sidle up to you, and pull you towards me firmly.

"Whatever shall I do with you..." I purr and kiss you.

_So *stupid*! How could I forget about my *phone*!?_

_I'm distracted by flirtatious Tiger._

_Well. *That* is nowhere near retirement. Defying all statistics of smokers and drinkers, you're still as horny as ever._

_"Love me and kiss me and call me George?" I try._

"I'll give you two out of three..." I counter, and kiss you again. "Mmm... captive kitten..."

I pull you towards the sofa in the corner where you sometimes cat nap during work.

Then I sit on the sofa, and pull you onto my lap.

"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..." I murmur, and kiss your neck. "Here's a good start. _One_..."

_"Mmmmm..." I purr. I love it when you kiss my neck._

_I was *going* to do some work. Call Davide and Julia._

_You're not trying to distract me, are you, Tiger? I'm not going to just *forget* that we are going to retire..._

_But no - no, this is innocent. You just want to be sweet and loving because that's who you *are*, you and your big Tiger heart. Loving is what you do best. Even better than killing._

I slide my lips down to your collarbone, push your shirt out of the way, and gently nibble it.

" _Mmmph_... two..." I say, my lips against your sweet skin.

_Oh... this is getting pleasant..._

_"You know, we could do a lot more of this when we're retired..." I purr. "No having to get out of bed early to go to meetings... no phones interrupting cuddling time..."_

“Jesus...” I mutter. “Whatever will we do with ourselves?”

That is the thing that’s gnawing on me. If we don’t have commitments... what will we _do_?

I mean yeah, I could do that training camp thing part-time, and you could still oversee your Empire...

wait... why am I thinking about this when I have a warm, pliant Jim in my hands?

I press you against the armrest, and pull your shirt off. Then I run my hands over your chest.

“Mmm...” I say and plant kisses down to your abdomen. “Three...”

_Alright, this seems like it's going somewhere... and why not indeed. Julia and Davide can wait._

_"Bedroom, Tiger..." I growl softly, and I can see the hairs in your neck stand up as you get goosebumps._

_You stand up, lift me in your arms effortlessly, carry me through the corridor, up the stairs, and gently lay me on the bed._

_What to do with an amorous Tiger?_

_"Continue..." I gesture at my body._

I smile down at you hungrily. “If you insist...” I growl. My lips fasten to your flesh as I unfasten your trousers.

You raise your hips, and I slide them off you along with your pants. I throw them onto the nearby chair, staring at your hard cock. My breath catches in my throat.

“Hello, gorgeous...” I murmur.

There’s a sight I could never tire of.

I dive towards your erection.

“Four...” I whisper before taking it into my mouth.

_Oh -_

_Hmmmnnng._

_That's never changed over the past thirty years, has it Sebastian... you are still always hungry for my cock. And my cock is absolutely delighted by the attention..._

_I enjoy your attentions for a while, luxuriating in the delicious feeling, but I'd like to go a bit further than that today. I grab your hair, pull you off. Your blue eyes are dark as they look at me._

_"Get undressed..." I whisper._

_"Then go to the cupboard and pick one item for me to use on you."_

“Mmm. Yes, _Sir_...” I lean down to kiss your lips.

Then I stand and shuck my clothing, staring at you intently. With a smirk I head to the cupboard and stare at the wide array of equipment and implements.

Hmmm... what shall it be today? Nothing hard-core, but something with a little... _bite_...

My hand closes on the spiked leather paddle.

One side, reinforced leather.

The other, small metal studs.

You can choose which side, or you can alternate - and I won’t know which side I’m getting until the moment of each impact.

Mmm... I’ve been curious about this since I saw it appear in the cupboard.

I grab a restraint set, so you can have versatility in positioning your Tiger for your liking, walk back to you, and throw them on the bed.

“Where do you want me?” I say in a husky voice.

_"I said *one* item, hungry Tiger..." I purr as I take the paddle. You're curious about it then? I bought it with some other stuff a while ago, but hadn't got round to using it yet. I pull the leather through my fingers, feel the little metal studs. Mmmm..._

_"Over the back of the bed," I gesture. I tie the restraints to the hooks on the side of the bed, put your wrists in them, and pull them straight, so your arms are stretched to the sides while your bottom is taut over the footrest._

_Then I get up to survey my prey._

_You look never so gorgeous as when you are tied up or down for my pleasure. Your skin has got a bit looser over the years but your muscles are still as tight as ever. I stroke your bottom with my fingers, giving you goosebumps. Kiss each luscious mound. Take a step back, looking at my weapon and my target._

_I was going to start with the leather side, but you'll expect that._

_I turn the paddle around in my hand and aim the studded surface at your bottom. A loud *thwack*._

A gasp escapes me before I can stop it.

 _Oh_... that _does_ have a bite...

You slam it against my arse harder, and I groan softly.

God. Thirty years and you still get me hard as a rock...

_There's nothing like your groans to get my blood flowing. I know your body as well as my own after all these years; know every inch of it, every sound it makes and what they mean, which bits are sensitive, which bits are sore, which bits make you melt into a puddle of bliss..._

_My gorgeous soldier husband. Mine. Still, always, irrevocably._

_I turn the paddle around, whack with the leather side, building up a steady punishing rhythm._

Oh god... in the hands of a lesser man, this paddle would feel cutesy and whimsical. But you, my darling, are so masterful with every implement, that you can suss out exactly how to wield it to cause the impact that you want, and the damage you desire... and the overall effect on your victim.

In this case your very eager victim is being subjected to mind games... guessing whether the sturdy leather side will land next, or the metal accessories which scrape and sting. I’m sure I’m bleeding by now, even though the designer probably intended for the metallic bits to be decorative - you’re hardly one to hold back. After the cold, sharp impact of metal, the hard leather feels even more intense.

And you know how to catch the air in between the paddle and my arse, so it delivers an extra loud, painful blow.

Which after enough time leaves me gasping and moaning after every delicious _thwack_...

“God... Jim...” I groan. “Fuck...”

_You're so bloody hot, and never more so than when you're groaning my name in pain._

_That's never changed. Me loving you didn't diminish my longing to hurt you - if anything, it increased it. My desire for you only grew when love entered the equation, and my desire comes with a yearning for pain and blood._

_But you love it just as much. God, Sebastian, we were made for each other. Anyone else, anyone sane, would have run and not stopped running if he got Jim Moriarty's interest. You - you sought it out, you mad Tiger, faced it with that devilish grin, and relished it. Met my homicidal rages with no more than a raised eyebrow. And - yes - in the beginning, it was too much. For both of us. My fear of feelings led me to lash out too much, even for you. And your persistent loyalty drove me to extremes - so much even that I ran away, leaving you thinking I was dead._

_But *somehow* we both survived. And kept getting back together. And slowly moulded our selves around each other. And it turned out we were made for each other, if we - well, me - would only acknowledge it._

_And yeah, we still ended up nearly killing each other occasionally - but we managed to survive with that amazing streak of luck we seem to have - combined of course with my genius and your skills._

_To this. Domestic bliss in pain and blood._

_I walk to the bedside table, pick up the lube, start massaging it in with one hand as the other lets its nails trail over your buttock._

There’s a flurry of rapidly delivered impacts with the paddle,

Sweetly tormenting me by switching sides,

metal leather

metal leather

leather

leather

metal

_metal_

oh god, it burns, it _burns_...

A few more _thwacks_ and you step away, leaving me panting and feeling the full effect of the thrashing.

Mmm...

My arse will be so bruised by tomorrow, I think with a faint grin.

And then I feel it being probed with lube, my skin deliciously scratched...

I feel my cock grow impossibly harder as you touch me like your plaything, your beloved possession...

Fuck... Jim...

_Your pants are music to my ears, little groans of pain and pleasure, so intricately linked for you and me._

_My cock wants its rightful place, inside you -_

_I rub lube onto it, push at your entrance, the gate to heaven - slowly push inside, hear you breathe, feel you accommodate. Oh god - even after all these years, it still surprises me each time how good this feels._

_"My beautiful Tiger..."_

“ _Fffffuck_...” I groan.

The sensation of you pushing in firmly while my flesh is throbbing with pain...

_Hngh_

“Feels so-” I gasp as you thrust into me sharply. “Oh - _god_ \- so - “

You thrust hard again, making me suck in my breath. I already know you’re smiling, when I turn to look at you. “Enjoying yourself, baby?” I purr.

_"Very much so, pumpkin..." I reply, pulling back, thrusting back in. My hips touch your poor hot arse when I move into you, adding an extra urgency to your gasps._

_I set up a comfortable rhythm. The footrest is the perfect height, I had it made specially, and it's seen a lot of use over the years. Made of sturdy oak, it can withstand even a Tiger in the throes of passion - unlike some weaker furniture which we've had to throw out after your rampancy. Ah, the risks of Tiger ownership... they look cute when you get them, and then they run amok all over the place, wrecking your headboards and battering down the walls around your heart._

_I know your cock is pressing against the wood, but it's an awkward angle to reach for. I'll make sure you get your pleasure later - me first._

_As is proper._

I’m listening to the beautiful sounds of your breathless panting, our bodies slapping together, and then - the smack of your hand against my arse as you drive deep into me.

“Oh, Christ...” I groan, feeling sparks of white light up behind my eyelids. You’re hitting the sweet spot now, and hitting my arse at the same time.

“Oh, baby...” I gasp. “ _God_... I love - how you – oh, _fuck me_!!”

_"What a fortunate coincidence..." I moan, "I absolutely love fucking you... fuck... Sebastian..."_

_I'm getting there…_

_"I'm going to come inside you - my - fucking - gorgeous - soldier -"_

_I feel the pleasure gathering in my balls, pushing, pushing - ohhhhhhh god -_

_My fingers dig into your hips, my beautiful Tiger, tied down for my pleasure, mineminemine..._

_I shudder and spasm –_

I feel my cock thrusting against the wood as you pound into me, and I desperately try to hold on, and _not come_... you’d think it would get easier after thirty years, but then - the sex is always so fucking hot, that it still brings me to the brink...

“God... Jim...” I gasp, and then you’re coming inside me, such an amazing feeling...

I pant as I hear your beautiful noises, feel your shuddering body against mine.

_Fuck, you're amazing, Tiger... Fuck the seven-year itch, I've been with you for thirty years and married for twenty-five of them and it's not getting any less hot. I've never wanted anyone else. Why would I bother with some hot boy when I have the perfect mature submissive warrior *right here*? Who knows my body better than myself; who knows exactly what to do with his to send me to heaven..._

_We don't have as much sex as we did when we were both randy thirty-somethings, but marriage is in no way the barren wasteland that it is painted to be._

_I am leaning over your back, pull myself back up carefully, feel a twinge in my back. My fucking back - I don't appreciate my body not doing *exactly as it is bloody told* any more._

_I let myself fall onto the bed, undo your restraints._

Dreamily I wait while you pull yourself together, panting... holding my hips and pulling out... flopping onto the bed to free me from my restraints...

When I fall next to you on my side, my arms go around you. You reach around me to smack my arse once more.

“Mmm. My Tiger,” you say sweetly.

“Yours. Fuck,” I laugh, shaking off the pain. “Do you have any idea how bruised I’m going to be? I guess I’ll have to cancel my life modelling and nude photoshoot next week... Oh yes, and the porn work, too. They’ll have to find someone else to play the randy soldier who has issues with authority... and the randy assassin with a big gun.”

_"Speaking of big guns..." I smile, and move my hand down to your proudly erect cock, start stroking it._

_"You should be used to being bruised by now, my beautiful husband... I think your arse is more often bruised or stripy than not - or should be, anyway..._

_It's not my fault that your groans are so incredibly arousing..."_

My eyes close as I feel you stroking me. Then I feel you pinch my arse sharply, and I let out a soft groan before I can stop it.

“Mmm... see?” you murmur, and continue to stroke me.

“God... yes...” I breathe, my head falling back.

“Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?” you say, amusement in your voice.

“Every word, baby...” I moan, slowly moving against your hand. “Fuck... every word...”

_"Good Tiger..." I purr, then lower myself onto the bed, putting my mouth to use to assist my hand, letting my tongue swirl over your head, giving kisses in between licks. I can feel you tensing up, your fingers clenching the duvet, small moans escaping your mouth._

As you stroke and lick and kiss my cock, I’m going absolutely mental...

thrusting into your hand... shivering... panting...

“Jim... god, Jim...” I gasp.

My body jerks, and I dissolve into a shuddering, moaning mess. I shoot into your hand as I spasm.

“Oh... fuck...” I breathe, as you pull yourself up and grab a tissue to clean your hand.

“You’re... amazing...”

_"I'd hope so..." I smile, fall down next to you. You put your arm around me, kiss my forehead. "You're the sexiest Kitten ever..."_

_"Careful, Tiger..." I growl. "The paddle is still *right there*."_

_You chuckle softly, showing that beautiful smile. I'm happy to see that many of the wrinkles you've gained over the years are from smiling so broadly._

_"So..." I muse, "It's our silver anniversary this year."_

“Is that right?” I ask playfully.

I totally already know... I’ve been tormenting myself about what to get you, or what to plan for you that’s silver-themed, for months now...

“We should plan something special, yes?” I lean in and kiss you. “God, where did the time go, Jim... it feels like it flashed by in the wink of an eye...”

_"Sometimes it did, sometimes it didn't... but I most certainly plan to have another twenty-five years with your ugly mug in my bed. Hence the retirement."_

_I ruffle your hair._

_"So, I've been thinking... a holiday to some special places. Starting at a private island in the Maldives... then off to Scotland and Ireland so you can get your fix of nature."_

_I used to hate Ireland with a passion and avoid going there at all costs, but since we've killed my dad it's been a lot more agreeable. We even do business there now._

_"Then flying over to the US, go to New York, Vegas - and end up in Guarida del Tigre._

_What do you think?"_


	2. This Unlikely Scenario

I’m about to protest ‘ugly mug’ but suddenly you’re presenting your plan for our silver anniversary. My mouth drops open.

“What do I think?” I echo. “Sounds amazing...”

We did learn to take extended holidays after we were married, but this - is a whole other game. I smile slowly.

“Kind of like... a second honeymoon? Only this time, without recovering from trauma at the same time?” I press a kiss to your forehead.

_"You can do honeymoons without trauma? Wow - what do people *do* all day if they aren't having therapy sessions on the beach? Next thing you'll tell me they don't usually kill people either," I grin._

_Our honeymoon was... eventful. After getting married in a bloody ritual the day after I came back from being dead for a year, we flew to Mexico and I blew up the London apartment. We were both a hair's breadth away from completely losing it._

_And somehow, in that villa in Mexico, we lived through our worst nightmares and came out on the other side. We bought the place - Guarida del Tigre, my wedding gift to you. And we've been back a lot - usually at least once a year. That first time, we brought a bit of Mexico back to London with us in the form of Tezcatlipoca, a silver tabby we found in our dinner, as fierce as he was tiny. He thrived at ruling the pigeon loft, as you took to calling our penthouse, and lived to the ripe age of seventeen. A local artist's painting of his majestic form graces our bedroom wall._

_Anyway. This trip should be fun and restful. Let you do your nature and sports stuff while I read books away from dangers like sunlight and animals; and visit some decent museums, before chilling in our villa._

_Julia can take care of Hypatia, they love each other. She treats our Empress with the appropriate deference and devotion._

I pretend to think for a moment. "You know... I have a feeling they _don't_!" I say with a confused expression, and you give me a look of shock in return.

"I know. Don't try to understand it, honey..." I say soothingly, and caress your hair. "They probably don't thrash each other, use knives during foreplay, or break headboards, either. No accounting for tastes..." I shake my head sadly.

_"Well - what's the point of a honeymoon if you don't break a few things? Like - vases, a headboard, a telly, your husband's skin, the law..." I smile. "God - and every day we were like '*This* is going to be our quiet day!' And then something would happen... usually me..."_

I chuckle. “Yes, it was an absolutely mental time. But perfect for us, really. And we survived it against all odds...” I sigh contentedly. “And each other...” I stroke your hand, tracing the outside edges of each perfect finger. “Even though you came after me with a _gun_ for taking the piss out of your accent...” I shake my head, grinning.

“What the fuck was I thinking... but now, when I’m _very good_ , you even do the accent for me...” I raise your hand to my lips and kiss the tip of each finger. “Don’t you, baby...” I murmur.

_"Feck off," I grumble. I will, *very occasionally*, and only when I'm in a very good mood. And only when you do your posh one._

_I stretch. "Well, after postponing the start of the day so effectively, I'm afraid duty calls. Let's have a shower and get some work done. I'm going to invite Julia, Davide, and Matt over for a chat, separately of course. I think you should be there for the talk with Matt, otherwise do what you like - I believe you wanted to look into Somalia today?"_

_We have a shower, I dry my hair - I'm so glad I still have a full head. I always had a high forehead, and was terrified my hairline would recede, so I looked around until I found some scruffy kid on the internet who was trying to get a sponsor to develop his product. Everyone ignored him - he was terrible at selling himself - but I realized his science was sound and took him under my wing - and look at us now. Keradense is a best-selling product, and though it doesn't work for everyone, both you and I still have a full head of hair, which is good enough for me._

_I get dressed in a charcoal suit and head to my office._

When you disappear into your office, I feel that familiar feeling of a cord pulling between us. It doesn’t bother me like it used to. When I was just the bodyguard/assassin you were fucking - _for years_ , mind you - I was so madly in love with you, it was torture to be apart.

In fact I was able to handle actual torture better than being separated from you - especially when it was due to your fucking impenetrable walls.

But when you returned from your faked death, everything was different. We didn’t do missions apart anymore - we were too terrified of anything happening to either of us.

But even just taking time apart for work felt like an adjustment after the intense intimacy of our honeymoon in Mexico. It’s as if we passed the time in a crucible, going through searing flames... burning away anything and everything that could threaten us. All the defences built up after a lifetime, the deep wounds that had scored our psyches at a tender age...

By the time we were done, we were something new - an entity of two powerful beings who were even more mighty together... and could not bear to be apart.

I think of this as I get dressed in my usual security attire - black mock turtleneck, black trousers, tac boots.

Then I head down to the living room to do my work, staring at the door to your office along the way. I already miss you.

_Julia is pragmatic as always - looking at the practical side of Matt taking over, how to communicate the news so it's seen as a power move rather than a retirement, how to make the most of my role in the shadows - she'll make an excellent second in command. Though not as great a one as you are..._

_The talk does make me kind of sad. It's one thing to plan this in theory, but to actually talk about how it will be, setting the gears in motion... it's my Empire. I should rule it. The King doesn't retire._

_But then I think of Tiger, his knee locking up, bullets flying -_

_No._

_Thirty more years of wedded bliss is worth anything. An Empire a pittance to pay._

_Julia senses my mood, is careful, gentle, concise. Almost annoyingly perfect - but then that's why I picked her..._

_Davide is a different story. He's argumentative, feels that he should be in charge, he's been with the business longer, he's smarter than Matt, he's my true heir. I let him rage, staring at him coolly, until he calms down, realizes he's way out of line, and tries to push it further instead of backing down. Oh, you little hothead..._

_"... and that is exactly why you are not, nor should you ever be, in charge. A man who can't control himself can never lead an Empire. Look at Tiberius, Caligula, Nero..._

_You will come back to me next Thursday, and convince me you're ready to be a good officer under Matt's command, and not sow dissent. Or you leave. You have a week to decide."_

_He looks red, like he wants to say more, but he's at least sensible enough to nod and leave._

_I sigh. He is smart, has some great ideas, but he's too reckless. *I'm* reckless, sure, but I'm a genius and know exactly how far I can push things. He's going to get himself killed one of these days. Which is fine, but he's not going to take my Empire with him._

I’m just wrapping up my work when you let me know your first two talks are done and Matt is due shortly. I walk upstairs to your office, hand you a glass of a fizzy peach drink, and throw myself on the sofa.

“How did it go?” I ask, curious. You fill me in, and it’s just as I would have guessed.

I look at you closely. You seem subdued...

“You doing alright? And - are you sure this is what you want? Really sure?” I ask carefully.

You protest half-heartedly, and I cut you off.

“Listen, Jim. I’m not OK with you doing anything dangerous without me there. I’m really _fucking_ not. But how can I let you... give up everything you’ve worked for?”

It hits me what you’re doing for me, and for a moment I can’t speak.

“If you’re just doing it for me, and it’s not actually what you want, then - maybe this isn’t the right thing for you...”

_"Shut the fuck up Sebastian," I growl. "Matt will be here in a bit and I don't want to get sentimental. I'm *not* doing this for you - you made it more than clear that you don't want this._

_And of course I don't want it! Leaving my Empire in the hands of some kids who are going to do shit with it I don't approve of? I want to remain forever young and strong and powerful! I want to be as invincible as I thought I was when I was 25! I want to dance and fuck all night without my back giving in! And guess what? I *can't*! And it pisses me the *fuck* off!_

_But I'm *trying* to deal with it! And it's *not* helping that you're constantly questioning my *decisions*!"_

I stare at you, aghast. What the _fuck_ , Jim...

“I’m not _constantly questioning your decisions_ ,” I snap. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t having second thoughts! I’m _expressing fucking concern_. And making sure you’re _fucking OK_. Is that alright? Or would you rather I just behave like an obedient lapdog and do as I’m told?”

_"Yeah, but you've never indulged me in that..." I mutter. You grin, and I shake my head. "I'm sorry Tigger. It's all frustrating, but I am convinced this is the way to go. I've given it a lot of thought, looked at all possible outcomes, and my mind is made up. But - yeah, it's still annoying that we can't be young forever._

_Maybe we should become Buddhists and get a next life to be badasses in. But as long as we're atheists I plan to adapt to the changed circumstances in the best way possible."_

_I get up, plonk onto your lap. "I love you, you annoying big lump." I kiss your forehead._

_My phone tells me I've got a text from Matt - he's arrived. I sigh. "Perfect timing."_

I slide my arms around you, and kiss you. Then you get up from my lap.

“I’ll show him in...” I say and head for the stairs.

I imagine how it would have gone if we’d kept fighting as Matt was arriving.

God, the tension he would have walked into. Not ideal.

I grin, shaking my head as I approach the door. Never a dull moment in the heart of the Empire...

Ruefully, I open the door.

“Hey, Matty,” I grin at the man waiting in the hallway.

Taller even than me but far more lean, longish black hair, and ice-blue eyes. Immaculate tailored suit.

“Sebastian,” he says, nodding at me in his usual respectful manner. “This sounds important..”

“You could say that,” I say wryly. “You drink whisky, yeah?”

He looks surprised. “I don’t need-“

“You’ll have one,” I reply with a chuckle. I usher him in, then raise my chin to gesture towards the staircase. “Go on up. I’ll join you in a moment.”

I see the barest flash of concern on his face, quickly stifled and replaced by curiosity. Ah, you chose your heir well, my dear... I go to the living room, and arrange a bottle of whisky on a tray along with three glasses. Then, sighing, I head upstairs.

_Matt knocks, on my "Enter!" enters my office. He's looking wary - he must realize this is big, but not quite how yet._

_"Sebastian is getting whiskey..." he nods at the door. I hear you getting glasses._

_"Sit down, Matt. We'll wait for Sebastian to join us."_

_You enter, pour three glasses of whiskey, hand one to me and one to Matt, and sit down._

_I look at him._

_"So - what do you think that I called you in for?"_

_He looks at me, his head slightly tilted. He is clever, let's see if he can work it out. He's got used to me asking him to deduce stuff over the years, and does a good job for a normal person. He's learnt not to hide his insights behind flattery or false modesty._

_"It seems important, because you invited me over here without saying why, used words which seemed grave without sounding dire, are wearing an expensive suit, and Sebastian is here. Any one of those could be a coincidence, but all four together - I'd say significant message. It's a pleasant message, because there is whiskey. Now that might also mean that you've decided to kill me, but since I am the best guy you got, I don't think so._

_So. I am not aware of anything big coming, but that doesn't mean you're not. So it might be a big job; but I doubt it, because when I come for a job there are usually files, plans, photographs; and your desk is empty._

_So... your silver anniversary is coming up. Now, it might be that you've decided to renew your vows and want me to be your pageboy. Or - you're going for a big trip and want me to keep things moving while you're away, but you've done that before with less ceremony._

_So - I'm going to go with - and you're going to slap me if I'm wrong, but the most probable scenario is that you're thinking of stepping back from the more customer-facing duties, and want me to take over."_

I hide my smile in my glass, and take another belt of whisky.

I don’t want to take away from your response.

The kid is _fucking good..._ you trained him well...

_Oh *very* nice Matty. I see your grin - yeah, that couldn’t have been better. If we would have a son, he’d be like this. Except hotter._

_“Yes, the pageboy. I’ve got you a lovely outfit in pastel rainbow colours.”_

_He laughs, but looks a tad wary still - good, you never know with me._

_I sigh, lean back._

_“So - yeah. Well done, kid. I’ve - *we’ve* - decided it’s time to retreat from the more onerous aspects of running the Empire. Sebastian is still the meanest motherfucker on the planet, but he’s trained Jared and Ollie well._

_Now *you* -“ I take a sip of whiskey. “Your training has been thorough, and you’re not too bad on occasion. But to run the Empire you have to be *all* brilliant, *all* the time. It’s not enough to be a step ahead of everyone else - you have to be three steps ahead and planning for each possible outcome.”_

_He nods sagely, then a grin appears. I swear he learnt the art of grinning from you - nearly as impossibly wide._

_“Yes, you’ve told me so, often. And though I’m not a genius like you, I do try._

_So that’s why -“ He reaches into his jacket, takes out two small boxes._

_Oh you little shit._

_“... I thought I’d prepare for this unlikely scenario...”_

_He hands one to me and one to you. Inside are cuff links - gold for me, silver for you. In the shape of slippers._

I open my little box and stare at the silver cuff links.

"Fuck's sake... we're not being put to pasture, you imbecile," I grumble. "And if you step out of line, I can still crack your skull or put a bullet between your eyes. You'll remember that, won't you, Matty?" I give him a sharp smile.

"Oh, I know," he grins. "I live by the grace of both of the gods before me..."

I roll my eyes. Then I throw the box on the coffee table, grab the back of Matty's head, and pull him in a headlock against my shoulder. I lean in and growl, "Little _shit_ ," before kissing the top of his head, and pushing him away with a laugh.

_"Ewwwww, don't kiss me with that mouth, I know where it's been," he laughs._

_"*Right* you two. That'll do." I say sternly; and you both settle down, looking at me with innocent faces._

_"I'm not going to disappear - I will still be monitoring, but more behind the scenes. I expect you to get a better grip of the full web - at the moment you have your own section, but if you're going to sit in the centre, you're going to have to get to grips with a lot more. You will come here or to one of the other offices every morning and I'll introduce you to the lot. Once I've handed a section over to you, you will do the handling - meeting people, managing its business - with me supervising. When I feel you've got the hang of it, I'll withdraw, but not fully - I'll still be keeping an eye on you, and you can ask me for help; and you *will*, because if you don't and you fuck up I'll have Sebastian French-kiss you before he cuts off your balls._

_Mostly, I will not intervene any more. It's good to have people know I'm still involved, but your goal is to make yourself as feared as Sebbie and I are._

_Any questions?"_

I sit watching smugly as Matty’s eyes glaze over for a moment. I guess it just hit him how much he has to live up to... and he’s an arrogant fucker, too.

Poor sod. This will be a hell of a learning curve...

But he won’t be thrown into the deep end and left to drown. You’ll ensure your precious Empire is in good hands before you hand over all the responsibilities.

And Matty is loyal but he’s also smart enough to know how many systems you’ll have in place to keep the Empire safe and as under your control as you like.

I pour him another glass and one for me, as well. I sip from mine with a smirk.

_“I had a chat with Julia and Davide earlier. Julia’s going to be good to work with; as you’d expect, Davide wasn’t happy, but I’m sure he’ll realize what’s good for him when he’s cooled down._

_So - any questions?”_

"Only a million. But I'm... _processing_..." he says wryly. "I'll start compiling the most important ones, so we can get into the nitty-gritty. Can we talk tomorrow?"

You nod, then you both engage in some shop talk about a few pressing matters. I watch you both closely. I know Matty will rise to the occasion... you chose well.

By the time you're wrapping it up, I'm dying to be alone with you. What just happened was so momentous; I feel like I've been punched in the stomach. I take another belt of whisky, not bothering with the glass.

_It looks like my Tiger needs my attention... poor love. This is not easy for you. Should I have waited... no. It doesn't make it easier if I leave you to stew on it. Best press on and head on our silver honeymoon, to distract you._

_Silver honeymoon... *thirty* years. It's as much a miracle that we stayed together as it is that we lived this long. One narcissistic psychopath who has *no idea* how to deal with feelings, one promiscuous alcoholic vet with PTSD; two volatile violent killers._

_"Right - see you tomorrow. You know the way - wouldn't want us old men to go through the trouble of seeing you out, would you?" I grin. Matty nods, gets up with a bow, and leaves us._

_"Tiger. That's a sipping whiskey. Stop glugging it."_

I look at the bottle and shrug. But I slosh some into a glass, and force myself to not neck the entire thing.

The fiery liquid burns on the way down, leaving a pleasant heat. I sigh and lean back.

“You _did_ it.”

Fuck...

“How are you feeling about...” I shrug helplessly.

_Life as we know it being over?_

“...how everything went?”

_How do I *feel*? That's still a tricky one. I don't know._

_"Alright, I guess. He's smart, though too snarky for his own good." I turn a cuff link in my hand. "Little shit..." I snigger._

_"We'll still be involved, Tiger. We'll still be running the show. We always will. The King and his Soldier."_

I feel tension leave my body and my shoulders lower slightly.

"All right... that makes me feel better..." I sigh, and open my arms.

"Come here, Your Majesty... if you please..."

_"It pleases me," I smile, as I plonk myself on your lap._

_"We're just getting too important for the legwork. Leave that to frivolous youngsters like him. We'll be the brains, as always." I snuggle my nose into your hair. I know that it's easy for me to say... I am usually the brain behind anything we do. But I do value your insights. I just fear it won't be enough for you. You get stir crazy easily... we'll have to find something to keep you occupied. Something else than constantly jumping your boss, that is..._

I run my fingers lightly over your hair. “So. When does this second honeymoon happen?” I ask, smiling. “I’ll want to write it in my diary and draw hearts and stars around it...”

_Aw, cute Tiger..._

_"I was thinking May? That leaves us a month to get Matty up to scratch. He doesn't need to be able to do everything, just deal with us being away for a month; he should be able to do that already. Does that fit in your diary? I know it's just packed - workout, fuck, eat, booze, shoot some guy, fuck, sleep..."_

I laugh. “Oh, is _that_ what you think... I’ll thank you to remember I also prepare food... give stellar blow jobs... and oh yes, oversee security concerns for the Empire.” I nudge you playfully. “In other words, I keep a certain beautiful psycho alive, well-fed and sexually fulfilled.” I lean back against the sofa, and put my hands behind my head. “Which will still occupy my attention. But maybe I’ll be able to squeeze in some more reading between working out and fucking.” I wink at you.

_"I always thought you exaggerated your workload. I mean, how long does shooting a guy take? Pull the trigger, he's dead. How you extend that to be a full night’s work…”_

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, some people make it so unnecessarily _complicated_ , don’t they! I keep telling the people I mentor, ‘Look, don’t stress about it. Just show up and pull the trigger. Stop fretting about accuracy and getting away with it - if you miss the first time, just keep shooting... even if you have to go after the guy in broad daylight. That’s how real badasses do it.’” I laugh, and stare up at you, grinning.

_"Unfortunately, some of them listen too well..." I roll my eyes. "Think they're all Sebastian Moriarty, keen to make an impression... and then they're dead, and we're left to clean up the mess."_

_I stretch. I've been sitting still too long - got to do some exercises._

_I head to the bedroom to get changed into my gear, roll out the yoga mat, start up the app._

It never ceases to amuse me... how you get up during a conversation and just - leave. No explanation about what you’re doing. No comments to indicate the conversation is wrapping up. Fortunately, I’m not one for a lot of small talk either - so it doesn’t bother me, but it does make me smile.

Anyway, it seems you may be busy for a while. Gives me enough time to work out... I head to the gym, and start with free weights. Maybe this will help me work out some of this agitation about what’s transpired since yesterday...

In the space of two days, you finally got me to agree to retire from fieldwork - after years of arguing and cajoling,... and you went and had conversations with your head people already - so I wouldn’t back out?

And decided on a silver anniversary trip around the world - to distract me, so I wouldn’t back out?

Oh, my crafty husband...

you always know exactly what you’re doing...

I pick up hand weights and begin doing bicep curls.

“Fuck,” I mutter, and exhale slowly.

_For the next few weeks, I gather with Matt every morning to train him in the different aspects of the Empire. As expected, he finds it hard work - there is so much of it, and though he's smart, he's not me. He wants to log everything in his computer, but I'm not in favour - any system is hackable; there are some key things you *have* to keep in your head so no one will ever get all the information they need. We work on encryption and storing info in different places, with different devices, under different names, in different ways - but it still requires him to remember an awful lot, and I'm a harsh teacher._

_I think he's utterly relieved when it's finally time for our honeymoon._

_"It's going to be *fine*, Jim. I have it all under control, don't worry. And yes, I *will* get in touch if anything goes wrong. Now *piss off* out of my city," he laughs._

I can’t believe the day is finally here... there’s been the sensation of a pit in my stomach that’s been steadily growing. Knowing this was going to happen was one thing... planning for it and then implementing was another thing… but to reach the end and see only ‘retirement’ ahead of you? I don’t know what to do with that. Yeah, I know we’ll still be involved and in charge, but - I’m used to being in the field. Getting my hands dirty. It’s what I love. To only be involved in the administration of the Empire is...

I don’t know what it is.

I don’t know what this will mean - to me personally, or to us as a couple.

I start tossing clothes into my suitcase, to distract myself. Well, also because I’ve left it as late as possible. I think of how you’ll wince at seeing wrinkles and creases, and carefully roll them up instead. This is our second honeymoon, after all. Gotta look my best for my baby... not just because it increases my chances of getting laid... _a lot_. But I want you to be happy - I know this has been hard on you too, even though you try to keep it to yourself.

So of course I’ll have to pack a few nice suits in garment bags, as well...

And our favoured travel versions of BDSM equipment...

I grin as I look down at the designated BDSM luggage - good thing we don’t go through regular Border Control... the agents would get an eyeful...

_"Tiger! Car's here!"_

_Matt and Davide rush upstairs to help you with the luggage. As I'd expected, Davide saw reason, and has been doing his best these past weeks, which is good, because he's bloody clever. Between the three of them, they stand a chance._

_"Bloody hell, Seb - what have you got in here? Bricks?" Davide complains as he's carrying one of the bags downstairs._

_"Too heavy for you? Need a real man to carry it?" you grin, lifting your arm that's carrying a suitcase to horizontal, the case dangling from your hand. My adorable show-off._

_I cuddle Hypatia, kiss her head, tell her to be a good girl, and that Daddy and Tigerdaddy will be home very soon. She doesn't look impressed._

You hand our beautiful feline empress to me, and I hold her close. She nuzzles my face for a moment and I get unexpectedly teary. On top of everything we’re leaving home and our beloved girl... she stares at me for a moment and my breath catches in my throat. In the green depths of her eyes, love gives way to indignation.

“I know, gorgeous... we’re very stupid to deprive ourselves of your presence. We’ll miss you _terribly_... and then we’ll worship you when we return.”

She sniffs my face delicately as if to assess the genuineness of my sentiment... and then looks at me with haughtiness, reminding me of you for about the millionth time.

“ _Of course_ I mean it... Watch over the Empire while we’re gone...” I murmur.

She wriggles free and jumps to the floor with a swishing tail. Then she wanders off, and I can see her thinking ‘You mean _my_ Empire? All that you have is mine... and _you_ are mine. Remember that.’

I wipe my eyes, chuckling. “Love you too, Empress Hypatia...”

Then I join you walking to the lift.

“It was harder than I thought,” I admit to you. “We’ve gone away plenty of times... but it felt significant. Like... starting a new life...”

_Aw you old soppy Tiger. I am most definitely *not* wiping away a tear as I see Julia distract her with treats and we make our way to the lift._

_"We're not starting a new life in the Maldives," I say primly. "Way too much nature out there. This is me making an *immense* sacrifice to you, Tiger... just because I know you love sports and sun and getting wet. You can play your heart out, while I stay in the air-conditioned villa, planning what to do with a wet and salty Tiger in the evening... I hope you packed your wetsuit. You may not want to show too much skin..."_

_I stroke your arm with my nail, raising goosebumps._

_In truth, this will give me a good excuse to monitor the kids closely during the first week. You know I hate sun, surf, and sea as much as you love it, so you won't think it odd that I sit indoors all day, and it's a way to not rub in that I'm still working and you're not. And I do love how exhilarated you get from playing in the water all day, talking to me enthusiastically about an amazing jump or exciting wave as we dine on fresh fish._

_The boys load the suitcases in the car, hold open the doors for us, and we're off._

In the back of the car, we’re both quiet for a moment. Then I look over at you.

“Do you remember the car ride to the airport for our first honeymoon?” I ask, with an innocent smile.

_"Fuck, yeah... that was - eventful," I smile. "It was - a milestone, of sorts - showing us that we could still be - us. We were *so* volatile and vulnerable, balancing on a razor's edge, trying not to kill each other... freshly married and unsure of exactly what that meant, except that we were desperate to make it work, somehow..._

_And then in the car - it just all fell back into place - you wanted me to show that you were mine, and I wanted to possess you, and it worked... it didn't destroy our new precarious balance, it just felt right - and then the *bloody* car went into a spin and I thought we had survived each other only to fucking die in a road accident!"_

I nod, humming. “Mmm, sex and death. A heady mix, my love...”

I place my hand on your knee, and stroke it. “I’m so glad we’re doing this, baby...” I say softly.

_"Me too," I nod, and lean my head on your shoulder. I'm glad you're glad. You seemed a bit - of two minds. On the one hand keen to go on holiday, on the other reluctant to enter what seems to indicate the proper start of our retirement. My beautiful Tiger... always so fully engrossed in whatever you do, whether it is work or play or even sleep - you take whatever is in front of you and devour it whole like it's a juicy steak. Always searching for the next challenge; and here I am, taking your challenges away from you. And you'll go along with it because the one thing you love more than a challenge is me - and I've always been your biggest challenge..._

_Unlike on our first honeymoon, there are no fucks in the car, nor near-accidents - we get to the airport, a guy takes our luggage, and we're in first-class seats with a glass of champagne, and that brings back memories as well..._

When we’re seated with our champagne, I lean in and hold up my glass towards you.

“To the most bewitching man in all creation,” I murmur. “Just as devastatingly beautiful as the first day I laid eyes on you... “

_Awwwwwwww my sweet Tigger..._

_I undo my seatbelt and plonk myself on your lap. "To the baddest, bravest, most beautiful bodyguard, best friend, and..." I'm struggling to find something else with B and failing - "husBAND any man could ask for. I never knew I needed you until I met you - and then I couldn't go on without you." I kiss your forehead as the flight attendant comes to ask me to please be seated, Sir, we are taking off shortly._

You smile sweetly and return to your seat. It always amuses me to see someone give you an order - if only they knew!

We hand the glasses to her, and she leaves.

“And _now_ I’m remembering what we got up to under a blanket...” I close my eyes and snigger. “God, we were so out of control then... All it took was a look...”

My eyes open and I give you an innocent smile.

_"Remember the guy who came to tell us to keep it down?" I giggle. "I *looked* at him - poor chap nearly pissed his pants... Of course, now we are mature and civilized and would *never* shock sweet upstanding citizens like that... Don't look at me in that tone of voice Tiger. I'm sure we can wait until we are on our island and in a *proper* bed."_

I take your hand and kiss it, staring at you suggestively - and you shake your head, smiling. I sigh, and reattach your seatbelt.

“All right, then... but the moment we’re on that island, you know that’s all I’ll be thinking of...” I stroke your face. “It can’t come soon enough...”

Your eyes gleam, and I grin. “And neither can I...”

_"Never change, Tiger..." I chuckle. "I just don't think that I look as frightening as when I was thirty, what with my reading glasses and the grey hair... and this flight attendant looks less fun-loving than the one we had back then who was all heart-eyed at the hot newlyweds on her plane. It might have to do with us being about forty-five years older than she is... anyway, she'd probably give us a stern look and tell us to act our age, and then you'd have to kill her, and we'd have a hassle in Doha and not get to our bed in the Maldives in *ages*. Read your book instead."_


	3. Exotic Cocktails with Paper Umbrellas

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly focus on my book when I have the embodiment of sex and danger sitting next to me,” I murmur, stroking your arm. “I’ll have to distract myself with a high-octane action film, so as not be swayed by your devastating beauty...”

I lean in closer. “And if you think you don’t look as frightening as you did thirty years ago, Jim Moriarty... think again. I’m sure you recall the foolish guttersnipe who thought to accost us with a gun and demand our wallets on the way home from the opera?” I throw back my head and laugh uproariously. “I didn’t even have time to go for his gun before you stared him into submission. Jesus, you made him _back away_ and fall off the pavement. He got hit by a _car_ rather than face how terrifying you are...”

You sniff, but there’s a small smile playing on your lips. “Yes, and he still got away without punishment for his hubris! I do recall that _you_ were laughing too hard to give chase and deliver my sentence...” you say drily.

“I haven’t seen anything so funny in ages,” I snigger, wiping my eyes. Then I hold up my hands, feigning terror. “Oh, Jesus! _What the fuck, Jesus!_ ” I stage-whisper, and again collapse into laughter. “Why he thought the Lamb of God would swoop in and save a thug from his would-be victims... I have no idea. But I do know this - _no one_ can terrify with a single look like you can, my love...” I grin at you, and stroke your cheek.

_I'm mollified, but I'm still not risking the wrath of the flight attendant. Though that mugger was funny, yeah... I was just *so angry* at having our perfect date night disturbed by some smelly thug. It's good to know I still have it... though he did look like he was high on something._

_"You behave, Sebastian Patrick Moriarty," I smile at you, but stroke the hand on my cheek._

_We hold hands as you start watching some brainless action film and I settle into my book on dark matter._

The flight passes by like they always do - doze, eat, drink, watch film, get rebuffed when my fingers stray under the blanket, pout, snuggle, doze... repeat.

Only this time - there’s no mission to worry about going awry on the other end of the flight. Strange... I thought it would bother me more. Maybe after the jet lag wears off, it will hit me.

But by the time we’re walking through the airport to claim our baggage (certainly not meeting airline regulations), I’m feeling lighter than I have in years.

I turn towards you and grin.

“Holy fuck... is this the beginning of our retirement?” My brow furrows. “How in the bloody hell did we make it this far alive??”

_"Mostly due to your incredible talent at shooting people before they shoot you, and my incredible genius," I reply, stretching. "Oh, and you selling your soul to the devil, of course. And your body..." I grin._

_A boat takes us to our island. We have a private villa, with fences between us and the next one that extend into the water, so we have privacy even when we're swimming, unless we go too far out. I am not going to touch the sea with a ten-foot pole, though I might let myself be tempted into the clear chlorinated pool._

_The cook serves us two glasses of sparkling cool champagne and asks us when we want supper. You look at me and tell him we'll rest first and maybe he'll want to come back in an hour or two._

“Home sweet home...” I say with satisfaction as I look around the living room from the sofa. “For the next little while anyway... Shall we shower and freshen up before we eat? You know... to stave off jet lag until tonight.” I smile at you innocently, and you roll your eyes.

“You’re fooling no one, darling...” you sing.

“I’m not trying, darling,” I sing back. “I thought I was being rather _obvious_...”

I shrug. “All right, then. Fuck subtlety,” I stand, and scoop you up.

“Sebastian... what do you think you’re doing?” you drawl as I walk towards the staircase, but your eyes are gleaming.

“I’m carrying my very tired husband to the shower,” I say brightly. “Where I will strip him naked, bathe him, cover him with kisses... and then I thought we could very romantically fuck each other senseless...” I give you a quick kiss and begin to mount the stairs. “I did warn you what to expect when we arrived...”

_"Honestly, Se*bas*tian..." I grin as you carry me up._

_The rest of the week goes by quick. You spend all day surfing, jetskiing, kiteboarding, flyboarding, wakeboarding, diving, and god knows what, coming in by dinner time waterswept, salty, tanned, and glowing, telling me all your adventures over a lovely meal prepared by our chef._

_I can't help but love these evening sea tales - you look so enthusiastic and happy, like a puppy that got to play all day. Except unlike a puppy, you're rarely exhausted after your days, instead ravenous to find out what I have in mind for before-bed entertainment, after we have relaxed after dinner sitting on the patio watching the sun set over the sea, drinking exotic cocktails with paper umbrellas (well - I do. You tend to have a beer)._

_I spend my days monitoring Matt - he's doing remarkably well. It's not unexpected, but it is good to see my assumptions verified._

_However, this means that you keep trying to get me into the water, despite me assuring you that god knew what he was doing when he separated water and land, and when he created houses with fly screens and air conditioning, for that matter._

_Finally I agree to accompany you snorkelling. You assure me you haven't seen any sharks in the wide vicinity of the island, we will only go just off the beach, but there's amazing coral that I apparently will regret till my dying day not seeing._

You sit on the beach, fiddling with your snorkelling equipment - then putting it down, and staring off at the sea.

“Jim...” I call out as I walk towards you, pushing my goggles up to my forehead.

Your brow furrows and you continue to stare at the waves, looking both fascinated and disturbed.

“ _Jim_.”

You look back at me in surprise. “Yes?”

“Those aren’t just for decoration, you know...” I sit down next to you in the sand, grinning.

You give me _the Look_ \- to be fair, there are _many_ , but this is the one reserved for when I’m being playful, and you are less than amused... or just pretending to be annoyed. But which is it? Hmm...

“Or do you plan to throw them at any fish that may swim by?” I look at you innocently, but I can’t stop my lips from twitching. I’m really pushing it now...

_"I don't trust fish, unless they're gutted, skinned, and grilled. This coral had *better* be worth it Sebastian... and if a fish touches me, I *will* panic and get my snorkel full of water and drown, and then you'll be sorry," I complain, but you just smile, take my goggles, wash them in seawater - like *that* is going to clean them - and put them on my head, testing and adjusting the fit._

_"I'm holding you responsible for each and every grey hair," I warn you as we walk to the edge of the beach, where water meets land, where the place where man lives ends and the place where man was not meant to go starts._

_You happily splash in like you're half fish yourself, your bare feet oblivious to the myriad dangers that could be lurking on the sea floor. I wear jelly shoes, that you most carefully don't laugh at, and walk till I'm in to my knees, then splash water onto my wrists and chest and carefully walk further, keeping an eye out for any malevolent sea creatures - or, indeed, any sea creatures. I'll run first and enquire about moral compass later._

Aww... you poor thing... I watch you as you grow very quiet, and walk into the sea with extreme caution. Staring intently at the water with every step...

I shouldn’t poke you so much about your intense distrust of nature. You’d think I’d be used to it by now... I just love it so much, and I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to be outdoors as much as possible in such a beautiful environment.

I was thrilled when you agreed to go snorkelling with me - even if it was to make me happy and you don’t give a flying fuck about coral. I’ll take it. You’re not usually this accommodating when it comes to things you take issue with - and water and fish are pretty much the worst to you. Well, you despise insects too. And dirt. And wild animals, except the YouTube variety.

Alright, let’s get to the coral so you can see how beautiful it is...

I wave at you to follow me. “Remember everything we went through? Any questions?” I call to you as I walk.

You shake your head curtly, and move your snorkel in place.

I move into deeper water, excitement mounting in my veins. All right, fish... stay away from my husband if you know what’s good for you... Or I’ll catch you and strangle you. Or I’ll just come back later with weapons...

I grin, imagining shooting fish from a boat with you cheering me on - and I move farther into the water.

_The water is clear, so at least I'll be able to see any impending doom coming._

_Thus far the impending doom appears to be tiny and colourful. You point at some clownfish and butterflyfish, making a thumbs-up gesture. I keep a close eye on them - Mother Nature clearly intended those bright colours to warn us away._

_The coral you were raving about comes into view - also brightly-coloured, but at least not mobile. Carefully I approach, aware of the sea bobbing me up and down - I don't want to end up spiked onto a reef._

_I have to, grudgingly, admit it is indeed beautiful, and it does not look just as good on TV. I do love beauty - I just prefer not to nakedly immerse myself into an environment full of venomous and carnivorous creatures to appreciate it._

_We glide over the reef, where the little fish appear to mostly stay between the coral rather than come and take a bite out of me, so I slightly relax - only slightly though. The little buggers can't be trusted._

_I'm watching a small blue specimen, when suddenly - the coral *jumps up* and swallows it._

_A blink of an eye. A flash of a mouth opening, closing - and the fish is gone._

_I stare at the clump of coral - now I know, I can see the two eyes._

_A *stonefish*._

_And it's *right underneath me*. Right underneath my vulnerable bare skin._

_I make a beeline for the coast as fast as I can, rush out of the water, throw my snorkel and goggles onto the sand. Run a bit further away from the sea, just to be sure. Those fuckers can survive out of water for quite a while. In fact, just to be sure, I'll keep running until I'm safely back on tiled ground._

Under the water I look at the coral while keeping a close eye on you. I would never hear the end of it if something were to happen.

I move closer to you so I can make out your expression and am pleasantly surprised to see a look of grudging awe on your face - you see the wild, alien beauty here, as I’d hoped you would. Watching a documentary or YouTube video does not compare. I’m just about to touch your hand to share the moment with you - when your eyes start darting about, following fish. OK, I know they’re your nemeses, but can you just pay attention to me for one mo-

Your eyes widen in horror and suddenly you fly back from the coral like it’s a monster, and swim madly to shore.

...the fuck? You just _left?_ I’m tempted to just stay on my own out of annoyance, but I need to make sure you’re OK. I swim to land and walk along the sand towards you in bewilderment.

“Jim? What the fuck?” I call out, but you don’t stop.

“Why are you still running?” I demand, and tear after you towards the villa.

_"Do the words hyaluronidase, cardioleputin, and stonustoxin mean anything to you?!" I call to you, wide-eyed._

_"No Jim, they don't. I'll google them if you tell me how to spell them," you reply, looking equal parts puzzled and exasperated._

_"That was a *stonefish*. The most venomous fish in the *world*! And it was *right underneath me!* Its spikes pointing right at me! I could have been dead right here right now!"_

But... you saw it in time, and you’re _fine_ , I want to say but I stop myself. Thirty years has taught me to keep my trap shut at key moments - can be an extremely tricky thing for me, who likes to just say whatever the fuck I want, come hell or high water. But it’s an acquired skill that has certainly kept me alive - in work _and_ in love.

“Good eye, love... thank fuck you saw it,” I say soothingly “Why don’t I get you a drink, baby?”

_Don't you talk to me in your soothing voice, Sebastian Tiger Moriarty. Those things kill you in a highly unpleasant way._

_I never understood why people think it's the height of pleasure to go and wallow about in nature - nature is itchy at best and lethal at worst, and you can’t get a decent coffee. Fresh air you can get from aircon, pretty flowers can be delivered to your door, and HDTV has *amazing* animal documentaries, all without risk of poisoning, rashes, bites, and diseases._

_I know you like that stuff - hangover from your youth and your army days. You happily tell tales of slogging through jungle mud, being eaten alive by mosquitoes and leeches, drinking sludge, and eating larvae and bugs - and you sound *wistful*. Like you actually *miss* it._

_"Centuries humanity has worked its arse off to get *away* from nature. Building walls, floors, windows, mosquito nets - and idiots like you think it's a good idea to go floating around in it naked and offering it your vulnerable underbelly to rip out. I am *not*, ever again, setting foot in the sea. With the exception of the sea at la Guarida del Tigre, because that's *special*. No coral, but no piscine assassins either."_

_I swig the glass of wine you hand me._

I drink my beer silently as you rant. Well, fuck - the one time I can coax you out into the ocean, and you see the most venomous fish on the planet? Just your fucking luck... how many times have I ventured into deep wilderness, and walked out alive and well - mostly.

OK, tangling with a tiger is the spectacular exception, and it did nearly kill me. But that’s one near-death-tango in a lifetime of mad adventures in the natural world. You, on the other hand - the moment you venture into Mother Nature, she seems quite amenable to proving your theory that all she wants to do is kill you.

I’m very careful not to say any of this of course - just nod and make the appropriate sounds.

“Well... I’m glad one sea is exempt from your ban... it would break my heart to not be in the water with you there...” My hand trails along your face. “I can’t wait to go back...” I murmur.

_I soften a bit. Yeah, the sea there is special... the sea in which two broken, angry, confused psychos washed away the past... the sea in which you were baptized Sebastian Moriarty... it's a special place on earth and always will be._

_I was so sad when I thought we'd lost it to Ukrainian gangsters... and so relieved when we hadn't. It's our little haven, and even the fish seem to respect that._

_I stroke your cheek. "I appreciate that you wanted to share something beautiful with me, Tiger. But - well. You can't teach an old Kitten new tricks."_

“Mmm... and kittens tend to not wish to be taught tricks! They know perfectly well what they like and don’t like...” I say fondly and close my eyes, revelling in the feeling of your hand on my face. “They’re perfect and divine as they are, after all...”

_"Your survival skills are finely honed, my dear husband..." I grin. "I guess we'll be safer in Scotland - fewer deadly animals, though I still don't trust those wildcats..."_

_Epitome of the thoughtful husband I am, I have booked us a room in a rustic inn, all wooden beams and fireplaces and home-made haggis and local whiskey. If it were up to me, we'd be in the Glasshouse in Edinburgh, but you like the 'authentic' experience. We're near some woods that we can go explore; I booked us some bikes; I know you love tearing through the bendy mountain roads._

_I've really become the perfect husband over all these years, haven't I, Tiger?_

While you’re doing some work on your laptop, I slip out for a smoke on our spacious balcony - we’re overlooking the sea, which I'm sure you won't care about after your near-brush with a venomous nemesis. I look back at you through the sliding door - you’re wearing noise-cancelling headphones, so you’ll be focused for a while. I pull out my phone, check the time, and call Matty. He answers right away.

"Sebastian! Miss me already? Or are you having an existential crisis?"

I exhale smoke, grinning. "Yeah, that's why I'm calling... I'm having an existential crisis and I thought, you know what I need? To hear Matty's voice. I just don't know who I am anymore now that he's not around to sass me every day..."

"I'm happy to sass by email and instant message as well. How's the anniversary trip so far? Is Jim enjoying the wonders of the sea?"

I roll my eyes. "God, don't ask him about the wonders of the sea if you don't want to hear an earful. But yes, the trip has been amazing."

"Great, glad to hear it. So you're just calling to check up on me then..." he says wryly.

"Wellll... I know you and Jim are checking in regularly, but I just thought I should contact you, too. So if there's anything you're not sure about sharing with Jim... you can bounce it off me and I can tell you if it's something to be concerned about..."

There's a lengthy pause.

"Matty?"

"Yeah. That's great, Sebastian. Very appreciated..." his voice is troubled.

"Matty. Is there something you need to ask me about-? Because now would be the time..."

"Not sure... there seems to be someone poking around in a few different places... testing security, trying to get information... I'm not sure who or why - but I thought I should gather more intel before bringing this to Jim's attention..."

"Hmm. Well it could just be the usual... criminals are always looking for heists to bust in on... so untrustworthy! But then... if it’s happening simultaneously, there's law enforcement and intelligence to consider..." I say slowly.

"Right..." he says, sounding distracted.

"In other words... it must be Tuesday. Needs to be monitored and addressed for sure, but you'd best just get used to it, mate. See what you can find out first, and then bring it to Jim's attention if you're not sure what to do..."

"Yep - got it. Thanks, Sebastian." he sounds relieved. "Sorry to interrupt your retirement activities - have you taken up knitting yet?"

I roll my eyes. "Say goodbye, Matty..."

"Goodbye, Matty..." I can practically see the smug smile on his face...

I hang up, shaking my head. God - with his formidable brain and talents, combined with his smartassery, he really could be our love child. I laugh at the thought, then I stub out my cigarette and return inside.

"How's Matty?" you say, not looking up from your laptop. You’re still wearing headphones, and I don't think you overheard me. I smile to myself. Still haven't lost those instincts, have you, Jim?

_Why are you going outside to smoke? We specifically got a smoking villa so we wouldn't have to give up our customary post-coital fag. Ah, you're taking your phone - going to make a private phone call darling?_

_At one time that would have made me *furious*... but my jealous nature has settled somewhat in the past decades. Not when someone is actually trying to seduce you - that still riles me, and they often end up dead or otherwise inconvenienced, but my trust in you is pretty confident - I couldn't imagine a more loyal and devoted man than you._

_I bet you're calling Matty. I know you two have your private chats - he finds you oddly more approachable than me. Can't imagine why. He'll often run stuff by you before bringing it to me. Which is fine - I trust you to know what I want to hear and what not._

_I could check who you're calling, but that would be cheating. Who are the other options? No friends or family - you have a few friends, but no-one you'd bother calling during our honeymoon. Your mum died a few years back, your dad a long time ago - not that you ever phoned him when he was alive._

_So it's someone from the Empire. It wouldn't make sense for you to call anyone below Matt - you get on well, he's the one who's aware of what's going on across the web, you're not coordinating anything with anyone on the side. The only other one you might call might be Julia, because she's looking after the pigeon loft and Her Majesty, but there would be no reason for you to do that out of my earshot, unless you were worried about Hypatia, and you'd never be able to hide that from me._

_Ergo, Matt._

_I can't resist showing off when you get back in._

I grin as I pass by you and head straight for the bar. “It’s a good thing I don’t keep things from you, hmm darling? That wouldn’t go well for me...”

I fix our drinks, thinking. “Matty’s fine... He’s discovering that knowing the basics of running an Empire and actually running an Empire are two very different things.”

“Anything I need to be aware of?” you mutter, sounding unconcerned.

“Nah. Someone’s poking about - nothing unusual so far, so he’ll deal with it. If there’s something to report, he’ll let us know...” I walk over with a whisky for me and a rum and coke for you. I place them on the table, then throw myself on the sofa next to you - but with more care than I would have in my forties.

I look at you staring at your screen. There was a time when I wouldn’t have dared disturb you when you were deep in your web - unless there was a time-sensitive issue, or to try to get you to eat something.

One does not disturb a King.

Unless one is a Tiger.

My hand floats towards you and settles on its desired destination - your calf. I run my hand over your skin, breathing in deeply. “Mmm. You feel good, Kitten...” I murmur.

_"A cat may look at a king... but it takes a Tiger to call him Kitten and survive it," I grin, fold down my laptop._

_"What do you want to do on our last night here, Sebbie? Off to cold and windy Scotland tomorrow... Well, it's cold and windy *now*. The weather there is even more changeable than I am."_

_I haven't told you what accommodation I have booked, so you're doubtlessly assuming I'll have booked the usual swanky hotel. I can't wait to see your face when you see the rustic little BnB... with a fireplace... which had a sheepskin in front of it in the pictures, but should have a tigerskin when we arrive - a fake one, of course. I wouldn't condone the harming of *real* tigers. As well as a whiskey tasting menu from some of the best distilleries. I smile - you are so easy to please, and I love seeing your face light up when I surprise you with something._

_My sweet soldier..._

I muse for a moment - I've had a very fun, active time on the island. But now that our time here is drawing to a close, and we'll need to finish packing and then be back in travel mode tomorrow, I'm feeling the need to cocoon with you for a bit.

"Sit on the beach, look at the stars and the sea? At a safe distance, of course..." I assure you. "And if any evil fish leap out at you, I'll shoot them out of the air, I promise..."

_Awwwwwwww aren't you the cutest Tiger *ever*. All romantic looking at the stars... I think I can stand being near the sea, as long as you don't make me go in._

_"Sounds good. Why don't you phone them and ask to serve dinner on the patio and get us one of those drink coolers and a music speaker, and I'll eh... make a playlist," I grin and stretch._

_I've learnt to be lazy during the past years... Turned out I was just so switched on all the time because I was constantly feeling under threat. Having a fierce protective husband who I love and trust made me realize the world doesn't implode if I relax for a bit... and I've taken to it with the indolent elegance of a cat._

When we’re seated on the patio waiting for dinner, your music starts playing, just loud enough to be heard over the surf.

“So. Have you started poking around the Empire to see who might be poking around the Empire?” I say with a wry grin. “Or are you going to let Matty take the lead?”

_"I'll let the kid deal with this. It doesn't look too serious - I think it's that Chilean guy; he's been sticking his nose where he doesn't belong. But Matty knows him, has his tabs on him - I'm really impressed with how he's been handling stuff so far. He hasn't told me about it yet, so he doesn't think it's worth worrying about, and neither do I, to be honest. But I'll keep an eye on it."_

_Dinner arrives, and is delicious - "See Tiger, *this* is how fish should appear. Decapitated, filleted, and in a rich fruity sauce."_

I feel my muscles relax as you decide to leave it to the new face of the organization you built from scratch... I don’t know what I was worried about. You’d jump up from your chair and shout ‘Back to the UK!’ and tear off to protect your precious Empire?

...

Yes... that _is_ what I was worried about, I realize. As much as I resisted this retirement with every cell of my body... I’m enjoying this anniversary trip too much to cut it so ridiculously short. This means too much to us - we’ve _earned_ this fucking holiday with every drop of sweat and blood and tears over thirty years together.

And it feels like we just arrived, and I’ve just started relaxing, and we’re already heading to the second destination? If I’m not careful to enjoy every moment, this trip will be over in the blink of an eye...

I grin at your declaration about the fish, and caress your hand. “I can see how their final destination would be so pleasing to you...”

After dinner, we sit for a while, enjoying our drinks and staring out into the night to a soundscape of waves and sea breeze.

My ears perk up when I hear the opening notes of a familiar song. I see you smiling and I stand up. You look at me questioningly, and then at my hand which is being stretched out to you ever so suavely.

“I think they’re playing our song, darling...” I say in my posh voice which I know you adore and so rarely get to hear.

_I’ve got the brains_

_You’ve got the looks_

_Let’s make lots of money_

_Ohhhh, posh Sebbie... wanting to dance to our song. Well. One of our songs. We have so many..._

_I take your hand, stand up, put my other hand on your shoulder._

You've got the brawn

I've got the brains

Let's make lots of money

_I sing along, a big smile on my face. This song could have been written by me..._

We sway together, our bodies pressed against each other. You are singing, and I’m grinning madly, and preparing to break out some fancy moves for the chorus.

_Oh, there’s a lot of opportunities_

_if you know when to take them_

I grasp your hand, press it to my lips - then spin you out. When the snap occurs, your eyes are gleaming.

_You know there’s a lot of opportunities_

_if there aren’t, you can make them_

I spin you back towards me, and your body leans against mine, suspended in the moment - then I sweep you into an elegant dip towards the patio floor - supporting you so as not to irritate your back.

_(Make or break them)_

When you rise, your entire face is lit up, and I have to stop myself from falling at your feet. We return to simple swaying movements and your arms drape over my shoulders as you sing to me. I gaze at you, completely bewitched. Jesus Christ, you are so fucking hot...

_You can see I’m single-minded_

_I know what I could be_

_How’d you feel about it?_

You trail your finger down my cheek and over my lips.

_Come and take a walk with me_

_I’m looking for a partner_

_regardless of expense_

_Think about it seriously_

_You know it makes sense_

By the end of the song, the air is electric, and we feel like those same two ruthless men from thirty years ago, driven by violence and hunger and pain.

Only it’s astronomically better now because we are each other’s - there is no me without you, no you without me, and no one can separate us - ever.

And if they tried... they would have a truly terrifying creature with teeth at their throat.

I dip my head down and press my lips to your neck.

“God, Jim...” I murmur against your skin. “It’s like no time has passed for me...” I lift my head, and stroke your face. “You’re still the beautiful dark force of nature I met thirty years ago... sliding out of the shadows like a horror film... pulling off your shades so I could see those mesmerizing eyes... and then saying-”

You say the line, eyes glittering. “ _So you’re the one everyone is making a fuss about... mmm, let’s have a look at the big bad soldier..._ To which _you_ replied with typical Tiger finesse-”

“Who _the fuck_ are you?” I growl, then throw back my head, laughing. “It’s a wonder we didn’t shoot each other in the first five minutes...”

_“It’s a wonder we didn’t shoot each other at any point, really... even now I’m sometimes tempted when you leave your bloody socks next to the bed...”_

_You look mock-sad and I kiss your nose. “Nah, you’re too cute to waste..._

_I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised seeing you live. I’d seen the pictures, heard the stories, but the real deal... *rawr*.” I pinch your buttock._

Mmm. I do enjoy your manhandling, darling...

"Well, I'd heard stories too, but each one was more mysterious than the last. I didn't have the first clue what to expect - you were more entity than man. A scary tale to tuck criminals into their beds with. And when I finally saw you..." I run my tongue over my lips seductively. "Mmm. I wanted to be tucked into bed with the scary tail, alright... even if I didn't make it out alive..."

_"I know! It was so cute - and so annoying! Here I am, checking you out to see if I want you as an employee or a shag - and you are too *bloody* talented to waste, so I had to hire you - and I had a strict rule not to get involved with employees, for obvious reasons. And there I had the hottest man in the bloody Commonwealth, clearly into me, shagging everything that breathed - and I had to keep my hands off him - *god*, you were frustrating..." I growl._

" _You_ were frustrated? Think how I felt, with your incessant flirting, being the fucking embodiment of seduction... and then pulling away. God it was intoxicating, and a complete _mindfuck_... especially when things strangely started interfering with my hook-ups..." I brush hair off your forehead. "Remember that, darling? If you couldn't have me, no one could, hmm?" I croon, running my hand through your hair. When my hand reaches the base of your skull, my fingers dig into your hair possessively.

_"I flirted with *everyone*. And your hook-ups were too distracting. I needed you focussed on the job." I pout._

“Ohh...I see...” I lean in to kiss you before gently pulling on your pouty lower lip with my teeth. “Distracting to who, I wonder...” I breathe, and kiss you again.

“Mmm... the reason I needed to _distract_ myself was due to my proximity to the hottest man I’d ever seen. And once my outlet got taken away from me... I was an apocalyptic meltdown waiting to happen... and you knew it. And you _liked_ it...” I say mock-accusingly, before capturing your mouth with my own.

_Mmmm... your kisses still taste the same, of cigarettes, whiskey, sex, and danger._

_"I didn't like it!" I protest as we break apart. "I didn't know what to do - I *had* to have you, but I also had to keep you as an employee - I had to *break* my own rules - do you know how hard that is when you are an infallible genius? But you had to be the exception, didn't you, Tiger... digging your nails deeper and deeper under my armour, under my skin... and look where that got you. Married to a criminal psychopath for twenty-five years..." I shake my head._

“Yes... I’m the exception, the rule that begged to be broken... I _wanted_ to be broken by you... but I never in a million years thought I would fall in love. Sebastian Moran, SAS soldier, sniper, assassin... so madly in love with a criminal mastermind, I could barely breathe...” My fingers grasp your waist, and I inch you closer.

_"Quite literally, at occasion..." I smile as I'm pulled close to my beloved husband. "And then you went and broke the one rule that ruled all others. More than a rule - a law of nature as immutable as gravity. You made a cold criminal psychopath *feel*... and *fall in love*... ohhhh, Tiger; how you suffered for that..."_

_I wrap my arms around you. Such a comfortable, familiar, reassuring feeling, your strong body, muscles still taut and alert, still able to kill anyone in the blink of an eye with or without a weapon, and ready to do so without question after no more than a look or a gesture from me. We are so attuned, my love... my *husband*._

We hold each other for a long time, swaying as songs rise and fall with the waves... far over our heads, the stars shine... they die, they are born... and they are the only witnesses to two of the most notorious criminals this world has ever known - in love and slow dancing on a beach.

I kiss your cheek reverently. “I’m so glad we’re doing this, Kitten. And we’ve only just started...” I murmur into your ear.

_I'm relieved to hear you say that. I know the concept of retirement is a hard one for you... you love going on holiday, but as a break, after which you go back to work slightly more tanned than you were before. I wasn't sure how you'd respond to this... our second honeymoon, yes, but also the start of your 'going to pasture', as you called it._

_But you seem to be having as great a time as always, doing your wild adventures in the water, catching the eye of people half your age, but only having eyes for me..._

_"I'm really enjoying this, Tiger," I smile up at you. "Heh, dancing on the beach reminds me... do you remember our first night on our *first* honeymoon? Sorry I don't have coke, and I don't think we should be shooting guns here..."_

“Hmm... first night of our honeymoon. Coke and shooting guns, you say? Doesn’t ring a bell...” I smile as we continue to dance slowly.

You swat my shoulder playfully. “Then your memory is fading, old man...”

“ _Old man?_ ” I growl softly, and scoop you up easily. “Maybe a certain Kitten would like a nice refreshing dip in the pool?”

_"Nooooo - Sebastian!" I squeal in a most undignified manner. "Let me go, you brute!"_

_You walk towards the pool. "No!! No, I got my phone - don't you dare!!! SebBIE!!!" I scream._

_You laugh and put me down. "Don't worry, Kitten, I'm not that suicidal... unlike you, calling me *old man*."_

_I humph and smooth down my clothes._

_Notice your phone is on the table._

_Make as if to hug you, then *shove* -_

_The water splashes my trousers. One wet, surprised Tiger comes up out of the water, spluttering._

One moment I’m laughing and about to hug you and then –

Stunned I find myself hurtling downwards through water, and I realize what’s happened...

 _Oh you little shit,_ I think as I swim to the side.

“Jim,” I say warningly in between coughs, as you giggle madly behind your hand.

“Yes, dearest...?” you ask in a silky voice.

“Incoming!” I sing, and splash water at your face. You duck but some of it hits your hair, and the water streams down over your forehead and eyes. As you rub your eyes, and sweep your dripping hair off your forehead, you realize your mistake - I’ve climbed out of the pool, and I’m heading towards you.

“Tiger...” you say in a threatening tone, backing away - but your eyes are gleaming with delight.

“Kitten...” I greet you with a feral smile. You try to dodge me and get around the table, but I’m too quick - I grab you, holding you firmly against my wet body as you protest loudly and hit me. “Come now, darling... just one kiss...” I coax, and manage to press my lips to your cheek. Then I rub my wet face against yours, delighting in your shouts of outrage and the threats that soon follow.

_No no no - no wet Tigers - keep away -_

_I'm being wrapped in cold wet arms and snuggled and I squeak and curse, but to no avail._

_"You are in so much trouble, Tiger..." I growl when you've released me. "But it'll have to wait till tomorrow because we have an early day tomorrow, and I can never sleep on planes..."_

I give you my best manly pout. “Aww, baby... first you throw me in the pool, and then you toy with me about being in trouble? You know I love your kind of trouble...” I murmur, moving in to kiss you again.

You evade me smugly. “You heard me, Tiger...”

I shrug, grinning. “Oh, alright. Spoil my fun...” I remove my shoes and shirt, and then undo my trousers.

“What do you think you’re doing, Sebastian?” you ask, eyeing me.

“I can’t very well go walk inside dripping with water, can I? So I’m just going to let myself air dry,” I say, all innocence as I shimmy out of my pants.

_Don't you *dare*, Sebastian Moriarty..._

_Come on Jim, it's not like you haven't seen him naked a thousand times..._

_But in the light of the candles and the pool lights... your skin so tanned after a week here... your muscles even more toned after all the sportsing you've been doing..._

_"Sebastian Moriarty. I can see what you're doing. It won't work. It'll only be worse for you tomorrow..."_

“Worse, you say,” I say, feigning worry. “That does sound like cause for concern... I’d better be careful from here on in!”

I scoop up my bundle of wet clothes and shoes, and leave them by a patio chair. Let the employees raise their eyebrows. Their imaginations can run wild at what may have transpired...

Hands on hips, I wink at you.

Then I bow to you gallantly, looking up with a devil-may-care smile. “Another spin around the beach, darling?” I ask, the height of elegance and simultaneously wet and naked.

_"I'm not baiting carnivorous fish with a naked Tiger..." I raise my eyebrow._

_Oh fuck it._

_"Have you finished packing?"_

I rise from my bow slowly, and glance at the sopping wet clothes on the tiled floor.

“Mostly...” I grin.


	4. Happy Together

_"Hang those over the chairs so they're dry tomorrow and you can chuck them in your bag," I order. I can feel my eyes changing as they follow you obeying my order._

_When you're done, you look at me, licking your bottom lip. The air between us is electric..._

_"Bedroom," I breathe, and you walk inside. I lock the patio door behind me, then follow you to the bedroom, where you turn to look at me, your breaths shallow._

_"Undress me... properly," I say._

This started out a lark, but now I can feel the playfulness drying up under your cool gaze. It’s as if there’s been a dimensional shift... we’re in _your_ realm now, my dark Lord...

Once in the bedroom, I’m no longer your loving husband of twenty-five years... I’m a devotee willing to sacrifice himself on the altar of his god...

“It would be my pleasure... my dark Lord...” I murmur. I slowly unbutton your shirt, and slide it from your shoulders and arms. I move down to the floor to remove shoe and socks, then trousers and pants. I move my hands along your calves as the fabric slips away. I stand and carry the discarded clothing, which I place in your laundry bag in your suitcase.

When I return, your eyes are gleaming as you watch me approach you. Your body is pale and naked in the dim light - a sculpted statue of elfin beauty and dark power. My breath catches in my throat.

_I reach out my hand, grab the hair at the back of your head, pull you close into a kiss that leaves us both breathing shallowly. "You are a very unwise Tiger..." I murmur against your jaw. "You're going to be sitting down for sixteen hours tomorrow... could have been comfortable, relaxing... instead you're going to be wincing, won't you, my love? Reminded with every move, every shift, of who owns you... owns that beautiful body... that dark and delicious soul... that sharp mind... that large and generous heart..."_

I find myself held in place with a painful grip of my hair, and then kissed possessively.

Fuck...

 _Jim_...

As you speak, I feel a dizzying thrill at your tone - how quickly you can go from sweet to dark, playful to punitive...god, it has never ceased to have an intoxicating effect on me.

I clear my throat, so I don't sound embarrassingly swept away - not so early, anyway. I generally can hold out for a while before I can't reign it in anymore - but sometimes... it's too much to resist, even for me. And I break... and plead... and cry out in desperation. And I never know when it's going to happen, or when you set out with the intention to _make_ it happen - and in those cases, I never stood a chance.

"I've been known to be unwise, yes," I say thickly. "Being reminded of who owns me... is a worthy price to pay for being owned by you... Sir..."

_It's a dance older than time, that we've been dancing since the beginning... I lead and you follow, I hurt and you groan, I slash and you gasp, I take and you give. Even my genius brain can't count all the ways I've made you moan, cry out, plead; or all the ways I want to do so again._

_Your naked body bears so many reminders of our times together - usually the marks fade, but sometimes we travel deeply into the dark realms of pleasure, and blood flows, and scars are formed... which you bear with immense pride._

_None more so than the large M on your back, carved in an insane night of passion and pain when I first made you mine..._

_and the smaller JM over your heart, put there during a bloody and desperate wedding ceremony on the night when you made me yours. My own heart bears the reciprocal S and M, which are still appropriate now you are Sebastian Moriarty, because I am a genius and think of such things._

_Tonight is not going to be a night of blood and fire, but there will be pain... because I will it and you need it._

I look back at you, an insect drowning in amber as you stare at me pensively - utterly mesmerized by your dark, gleaming eyes.

_Fuck_... I want to fall to my knees and beg already, and you've barely laid a finger on me. Is it because we're so far away from home and regular working life that I can so fully and completely immerse myself in you, at a moment's notice...?

No, I realize - it's because regular life has always largely featured the Empire for the last thirty years - yes, there was our honeymoon and regular holidays, but we always had the Empire to return to. And even though it's still present in our lives, it's shifted off to the side... and now the centre of my life is utterly, _wholly_ about you.

I feel the ongoing weight and danger of the Empire teeter and then fall off my shoulders... and feeling nearly dizzy with this shift in my focus, I stare into the face of my heart's desire.

God... _Jim_...

_I stroke your jaw, see your eyes large and full of awe already. This is something that never changes... the intense electricity between us, the magnetism, the passion..._

_"Kneel," I whisper._

_***_

_As we lie in bed, tired, sated, clean after a luxurious shower, I look at your sleeping form, so intimately familiar; your face at rest, looking younger than your 67 years. I know and love every wrinkle, every scar, every line dear to me. So good to see that so many of the lines are from laughter... from you smiling that impossibly huge smile, squinting your eyes, in joy or humour. So glad that I so often am the cause of smiles of joy..._

_I lift my hand, hold it just over your cheek, so I can feel the warmth coming off your skin, but don't disturb you._

_"I love you, Sebastian..." I mouth._

_Then rest my hand on your arm, tucked under your pillow, and lay my head on my own pillow. I drift off with a smile._

In the morning, we rise early to have the delicious breakfast that’s been prepared for us by the staff. It’s going to be a long travel day... and you smile smugly as I ease onto the chair with a groan.

I hold up my hand. “I know... I could have had a comfortable day. I’m a wilful Tiger, and I had it coming...” I wince as I shift in my seat.

You sip your coffee, looking satisfied. “I’m glad we agree...” you say drily.

“Mmm-hmm. Well, you should be aware of something, dearest...” I say, and you raise an eyebrow, looking intrigued.

I lean in closer. “It was _So. Fucking. Hot_...” I smile flirtatiously at you. “The full moon rising over the sea... how you made me beg for it... god, Jim... I would gladly face 16 hours of discomfort in exchange for last night... I regret nothing...” I wink at you, and lean back in my chair to finish my coffee.

You watch me closely, then smirk in triumph as I wince. I rub my arse gently, brow furrowed. “But you may need to rub my poor, suffering bottom when we arrive in Scotland...” I say ruefully, and drain my cup.

_I glow as I think of last night, as I look at you and you grin at me, raising one corner of your mouth._

_Fuck I love you._

_Fuck I'm glad I never killed you, even though I came so close, especially in the beginning._

_Fuck I'm glad we survived against all odds and many attempts._

_It was such a narrow save so often... but like I said, my genius and your skills - and, don't be too arrogant Moriarty, a *big* dose of luck - kept us going._

_And here we are, off to the second leg of our second honeymoon..._

_The flight is long and boring, as flights are, but made infinitely better by a calloused big hand in mine, by blue eyes winking at me, by suggestive comments whispered under the din of the aircraft, by loud guffaws when we watch a particularly funny film._

_We land at midnight. I'm exhausted. The car ride to our BnB takes forever, but I'm rewarded by your surprised look as we pull up. "Here? Really?"_

After the bright sun of the Maldives, I know you must be dying for shadows...

Well, we appear to have found where they’re being kept. The BnB has an atmospheric, almost haunting vibe. At the door, as you’re inputting the code to be let in, I stare out into the woods.

“Such ambience,” I comment in an awed voice. “Cool! Hike tomorrow, baby?”

You roll your eyes at me and push the door open. Grinning, I grab the luggage from the driver, and start carrying it in.

“What?” I ask innocently. “I told you there are wildcats in the Scottish wilderness, right?”

“You did, and we’re tabling this discussion until tomorrow after breakfast. And lunch,” you say with satisfaction. “I’m looking forward to a nice long lie-in, not being dragged around the woods looking for dirty, feral creatures.“

Luggage safely inside, I wave the driver off, and shut the doors. “One dirty, feral creature is enough for you...?”

“Trust me, my hands are more than full...” you say drily, and cross your eyes at me. “Hungry?”

I trail behind you as you wander into the kitchen.

“I take it that means _you_ are... let’s see what they have...” I say, sweeping past you and opening the fridge. “Looks like - steak pie, if you’re ravenous. If you’re just peckish - there’s a tray of meat and cheese. Wine, beer, and...” I throw open the cupboard door.

“Oooh... crisps,” I breathe, and tear the bag open.

_"You'll spoil your dinner," I comment, and grab a handful. We had quite a few meals during the many hours flying between sun and darkness, and crisps are a handy and satisfying way to assuage hunger, and I'm tired and stiff and don’t want to wait for a dinner. I want to flop onto the sofa, but I'll need to do some stretching or I'll not be able to get out of bed in the morning._

_Whoever invented ageing should be shot._

_But first..._

_"Come look at the living room, Tiger," I grin, leading the way. I switch on the light - looks proper and rustic to me; all dark wood and warm colours. And in front of the fireplace - a tigerskin._

_You laugh as you see it, wrap your arms around me. "Ahhh... someone keen on making love in front of a roaring fire, sandwiched between tigers?"_

_"Sounds amazing," I smile. "However, if I don't do my stretches now I'll never make love to anyone ever again... and after that I'd really like to get some sleep. It's been a long day..._

_But so as you won't get bored -"_

_I open what looks like a drinks cupboard, and am not disappointed. A selection of 32 small identical bottles, each labelled with the name and description of the whiskey inside._

_"Don't drink them all at once..."_

“Heavens, no. One at a time, of course...” I grin, and stuff a few tiny bottles into the pocket of my leather coat. You roll your eyes at me.

“Don’t you worry about me getting bored, Kitten... or drinking myself into a stupor. I’ll take the luggage up, take a shower, and explore a bit...”

I don’t bother mentioning I’ll be doing my usual scoping out of any space we enter for security, and the surrounding property. Not that I expect to be attacked out in the middle of nowhere by unknown enemies while on holiday... but such incidents are so rarely expected or convenient...

I lean in to kiss you sweetly, and leave you to your stretching. You’re like a cat, restless in a new environment and needing time on your own to nest for a bit before getting comfortable.

Fitting that I behave more like a tiger, slinking through new territory like a surly, sharp-eyed predator...

As I do, I can’t help but notice how _charming_ this place is - and not in a touristy, sanitized way. The quasi-gothic ambience is present from the melancholic forest seen from the windows, to the decor - portraits of solemn 17th century Scots who may have met untimely ends -, to the architecture which seems to whisper of secret passageways and madwomen in the attic...

God, this is not at all what I would have expected of you with your passion for modernity and sleek design. But you do have a love for darkness and the macabre, so it seems strangely fitting for a couple of drama queens such as ourselves.

When I finish my perimeter check, I make sure to test one of the bookshelves to see if I can find a hidden passage, but no luck. Fine - I’ll have to entertain myself another way. I down a small bottle of whisky as I put away our clothes - heaven forbid they become wrinkled! I’m sure you’ll want to eat at a posh restaurant before we move on from Scotland, and you’ll have to be dressed to the nines as usual...

By the time I’ve unpacked and showered, I’m getting drowsy. I’m feeling refreshed, but my limbs are heavy and fatigued. Groaning, I slide under the covers. I don’t want to admit it, but age has definitely had an effect on how well I weather a sixteen-hour travel day. And the whipping from the previous day definitely didn’t help - I roll onto my side, rubbing my arse and wincing.

_I grin as I see you lying on your side rubbing your bottom as I walk in. "Someone had a hard day sitting on aeroplane seats?" I wink._

_It wasn't too bad - the seats changed into nice comfy beds - but they weren't really suitable to lying sideways in, and of course there was the take-off and landing and changeover. I can't resist - walk to the bed, pull off the blankets, push you onto your front, and deliver some sharp smacks with my hand to the area in question. You groan beautifully._

_"Just rekindling the fire, Tiger..." I whisper in your ear, before I head to the shower. It's a nice one - I am willing to squat in some ancient structure if that's what makes my beloved husband happy, but I refuse to compromise on showers or beds. The bathroom looks in keeping with the rest of the place - dark irregular tiles, a claw bath, pipes visible - but the stream coming from the brass and porcelain shower head is strong, steady, and hot. I close my eyes as I feel my muscles ease under the flow._

_I'm really tired - I've never been able to sleep on planes, a combination of being surrounded by people and the constant noise, and the hot water makes me even more drowsy._

_I dry myself off with a large soft towel, and sleep-walk around the bed, where I fall into waiting Tiger arms and oblivion._

I awake, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings. For a moment, I’m completely blank about our whereabouts. Then I remember landing at the airport yesterday.

 _Anniversary... travelling... Scotland,_ I remind myself and stare at you. You’re slumbering peacefully. I don’t want to wake you - I know it can be difficult to get a good night’s sleep when travelling. I slip out of the bed, swipe up my cigarettes and lighter, and pad downstairs - seeing the sweeping staircase with fresh eyes, I’m rather impressed. God, we have this place all to ourselves? Some noble family couldn’t afford the heating bills to their guest house anymore and now they rent it out to holidaymakers? I try to picture my father doing the same and I snigger. When I imagine him smiling tightly and asking a gay couple what they’d like for breakfast, I actually have to cover my mouth with my hand to keep from exploding with laughter.

I head to the kitchen, where I find an information binder on the large oak table. As I light up, I leaf through the pages, making a mental note to read through the history later of the area and this ancestral home. Looks like we can either join the main house for meals (no, thank you!) or call ahead to have meals dropped off to us. And there are supplies in the kitchen we can help ourselves to, and several restaurants and pubs in the village to choose from. Doesn’t look like we’ll starve, anyway.

I rifle through the contents of the kitchen - I wonder what you’ll want for our first day. Something low-key - you wanted a lazy day after our lengthy travels. Sounds good to me... I’ll make breakfast, and then we’ll figure out what to do about lunch later - after lazing and exploring and sex.

I stand up to get started with coffee - groaning as I feel the aftereffects of a severe whipping on my arse. Fuck was it worth it though... that memorable last night in the Maldives... your lashes leaving me howling under the full moon...

God, did you make me pay for egging you on... I smile up at the ceiling as I blow smoke in your direction. I make myself a nice strong coffee, then start laying bacon strips in a pan.

As I’m cracking eggs alongside the sizzling bacon, I start singing.

_Imagine me and you, I do_

_I think about you day and night, it's only right_

_To think about the one you love and hold him tight_

_So happy together_

By the time the eggs are also sizzling, I’m belting out the lyrics.

_I can't see me lovin' nobody but youuu_

_For all my liiiife!_

_When you're with me, baby the skies'll be bluuue_

_For all my liiiife!_

As I saunter around the kitchen in my pants, I hold the spatula with both hands and sing into it with abandon.

_I wake up to the sound and smell of a pig being blowtorched._

_It takes me a moment to orient myself - oh yes. Scotland. Flights. Tired - I slept like the dead._

_The smell must be breakfast - and the sound, off-key and rough around the edges though it be, is one of the best sounds in the world - the sound of a happy Tiger._

_I smile as I recognize the song, stretch my arms and legs, move my shoulders. I'm feeling quite nimble - good._

Me and you, and you and me

No matter how they toss the dice, it had to be

_Well... that and a bit of effort from both our parts. Because we're both too fucking stubborn to die, and incapable of keeping away from each other..._

Baaa baa baa baa baa ba-ba baa baa...

_I snigger as the tortured pig turns into a sheep._

_You are *so cute*... and you always are so happy and in love the days after a hard session, your eyes shining every time you feel the ache reminding you. It must be weird being a masochist... but I'm more than happy to oblige. If I'm not too busy - and I'm not, because we are retiring._

_I quickly check my phone as you launch into Good Vibrations. Everything seems fine in the Empire. I better get downstairs before you massacre any more classics._

I'm picking up good vibrations

He's giving me excitations

Goood, gooooood, goooooooood-

_"- morning sweetie!" I'm danced towards and kissed on the forehead by a Tiger in boxer shorts._

You watch me with amusement as I dance my way to the espresso machine.

“Morning, Sebbie, Didn’t expect a show with breakfast,” you say, yawning as you drop into a chair.

“Expect the unexpected, darling,” I grin. “And... coffee, of course.” I press buttons, pull the lever, and watch as a beautiful steamy Americano pours itself neatly into your cup.

With a flourish I present your cup to you, and return to the sizzling pan to slide breakfast onto plates.

I bring these to the table, to join the waiting pile of toast.

“Breakfast is served...” I say with relish, and sit down to dig into my heaping plate of bacon and eggs.

_Coffee. Coffee good._

_I take my cup, add a bit of sugar, stir, sip. Ahhh... nectar of the gods._

_"You're awfully chirpy this morning, Tiger... did you have a good holiday?" I smile._

“Wonderful... I strongly recommend the Maldives if you want to get away from everything. I can especially recommend going with someone unbelievably hot...” I smile to myself as I drink coffee.

“I went with the hottest fucking man...” I confide in a low voice. “Oh my god, the things he did to me... on all fours in restraints... lashing me mercilessly... until I was bleeding... pleading... _howling_... Fuck me, it still hurts to sit...” I say, shaking my head as a smirk plays on my lips.

_"I'm sure you had it coming," I smile. "That unbelievably hot man strikes me as a very sensible and just person. *Don't snigger*..."_

_I tuck into the breakfast. As usual you've heaped my plate, unable to believe that man can persist on anything but mountains of food. I focus on the tomatoes, eggs, and beans._

_"So, what were your plans for today, Tiger? Dragging me through a sylvan hellscape? Making me commune with nature up close? Exposing me to wildcats and rampaging stags?"_

_"Nah, that's tomorrow," you grin. "Don't worry Boss, I won't make you trip through nature too much - there's a nice bike ride up to the forest here," you drag a folder close and press a greasy finger onto a laminated map, "and then a pleasant, easy walk across clear and accessible paths that ends at this charming country pub. We could do that tomorrow, and then to make it up to you, we could go into Inverness the day after and look at a museum and eat somewhere posh._

_For today, I thought we could just laze about - it's drizzling outside, I could make a nice fire later and we could lounge and read?"_

_I look at you, mollified. "That sounds like an excellent plan, Tiger. Those sofas look *made* for lounging and reading and being a lazy slob... and if you insist on going for a run through the mud, I won't stop you; as long as you have a shower before you put your muddy paws anywhere near me."_

I chuckle. You always had a way with words...

“I wouldn’t _dream_ of it, dearest... Imagine! Tracking mud into the house and then laying paws on you! Leaving you _so filthy_...” I purr.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” you say drily, raising an eyebrow as you drink your coffee. But I saw that gleam in your eye, Jim Moriarty...

I lean back in my chair, and spear a piece of bacon. “But I’ll do my best to behave...” I say graciously.

“Of course,” you comment, looking at your phone. “Your arse couldn’t take much more punishment... could it, Tiger?”

I wince inwardly at the thought. “N-not today, no...” I concur.

You smile to yourself as you check your email. “Thought not...” you murmur.

Point to Jim, I think ruefully. Well. I can handle a quiet day with no misbehaving.

I think.

But I guess I should get used to quiet days if I’m retired... right? I feel stubborn resistance rising at the thought.

Jesus... I’m nearly seventy, and I’m just as defiant and wilful as I ever was. But it’s _fine_... I’ll just go for a run if I’m feeling antsy.

“No worries, darling. Just a quiet day, no mud or misbehaving,” I assure you.

You snort softly, and I grin as I finish my coffee and help myself to the leftovers on your plate.

_Somehow the mound of food on my plate always disappears. And miraculously, it seems to all become muscle on you instead of fat._

_You do work out a lot, practice martial arts, and are still able to run circles around most younger guys. I keep myself fit, but for me it’s more an aesthetic thing, and making sure my back doesn’t seize up. For you, fitness is a religion - and rightly so. The amount of times your speed and dexterity have saved both our lives..._

_Fortunately, I don’t get stir crazy if I don’t go for a run, so I fully intend to laze about all day. Run tomorrow. If the weather’s nice._

_I finish the last of the coffee as you clear up the dishes, then we retire to the living room where you lay a fire as I explore the bookshelf. Nothing very interesting, though I think you’ll enjoy the local history. However, there’s something about a wooden-beamed living room with a nice fire and green-shaded reading lights that prohibits laptops and e-books. Aesthetics are so important darling..._

_So I choose a book on the ecology of the Cairngorms, to prepare myself for the horrors I’m about to face tomorrow, as you settle down with a History of the Scottish Highlands, one arm holding the paperback, the other wrapped around me; my head on your shoulder, my feet hanging over the edge of the sofa, being warmed by the fire._

_I have to admit that this is quite lovely. It’s a definite shortcoming that the Ritz doesn’t have fireplaces in its rooms._

God... give me a roaring fire, a book of history, and a Kitten to curl up with, and I’m happy as a clam. The afternoon passes by with the flipping of pages, the drinking of tea, and the occasional muttered ‘English wankers’ and ‘fucking cunts’, much to your amusement.

“ _Your_ illustrious ancestors, darling,” you say cheerfully.

“Fuck my illustrious ancestors, darling,” I reply just as cheerfully.

“Do you ever regret-“ you look at me curiously.

“What?” I ask, bemused. I’m not used to you hedging - about anything.

“Not inheriting the Lordship?” you ask, watching me closely.

“Letting the world think you had disappeared, and that your father died without an heir?”

I close the book in my lap. “Really? You think I would regret _that?”_

You shrug. “Not really _regret_. Residual feelings, perhaps...”

I grimace. “That bloody title made my life a living hell. I sure as fuck didn’t want it for myself, after... everything...”

“Just curious, darling...” you stroke my hand soothingly.

“My only feelings about it are my _delight_ that I extinguished the title... my father’s pride and arrogant joy. If I could have done it with a raging inferno that took the house down with it, I _would_ have...” I mutter savagely.

“Understood, Sebbie...” you soothe. “Besides, you _do_ have something of a title... and it’s far more meaningful and majestic...”

I look at you for a moment, thinking. “Tiger,” I say with a grin.

“Tiger,” you purr back to me, and a shiver of pleasure moves through me.

“That’s who I truly am. Your Tiger.” I murmur, curling my fingers around your wrist, and lifting your hand to my lips. “So, no - no regrets, my beautiful husband... my lord and master... my dark prince...” I growl, and kiss your knuckles in reverence.

_Moriarty's Tiger is the best title one could get... better than Lord Moran, certainly. Still - to me nobility has something to it, some unattainable magic... but it's very different when you grow up with it. Especially with your useless cunt of a father._

_We continue reading, sipping tea, occasionally moving to relieve stiff muscles. This is perfect - the only thing that would make it better would be a kitty curled up on my lap._

_For a moment I consider summoning a helicopter to bring Hypatia over - but no, she'd hate it; being stuck in a cat carrier in a noisy machine - she'd never forgive me. I'll have to be patient - our reunion will be sweet. I get out my phone, look at the pictures Julia has sent. You see me look at one where she's being playful, lying upside down trying to catch a feather toy, and chuckle - a warm sound in your chest._

_Our time in Scotland is pleasant enough - you get your walk, and I obediently look at all the predictable features of nature you point out to me. Ohhhh, really, a fruit tree that grows blossoms in spring? Well, I never._

_You make it up to me by taking me to Inverness, where we visit some art galleries and go shopping, and I buy a tweed Inverness cape, which makes me look like Sherlock Holmes, and we eat at the refined Terpsichore._

_The rest of the time we spend in front of the fire, reading and fucking on the tigerskin rug. We're in regular touch with Matty - he thinks he's worked out who's poking around in the Web and will take care of the Chilean guy. Overall, Scotland is a positive experience._

_Now for the real test - Ireland._

_I don't know why I suggested going to Ireland. It just seemed like - something I should do. I've been for work since my dad's death - and it's something of a victory over myself to go for pleasure._

_On the other side of the island from Dublin, of course._

_Connemara is allegedly amazing for walks, with beautiful mountains as well as megalithic tombs - you'll love it._

As we approach our converted castle hotel in Connemara, you grow quiet as you stare out the window. Again we’ll be on a huge acreage with woodlands and outdoorsy activities - and nearby fancy restaurants and shops. You really did plan perfectly, so neither of us would be bored.

But of course I notice how you get in Ireland... and this time without business to distract you.

“If you enjoyed the bonfire I built in Scotland, I can do the same here,” I tell you.

Your head turns slightly.

“You liked the roasted marshmallows, didn’t you... and all the drinking and carrying on like fools in the woods?” I prompt.

I can see the edge of your mouth turning up ever so slightly.

“And then nearly scalding me with a flaming marshmallow projectile?” I ask wryly. “That made you laugh quite a bit, as I recall...”

_Why did I suggest Ireland?_

_Oh, I'm so big, I have to prove that I've conquered my fears. Why? To whom? To myself alone. You don't care._

_There's just something - it's like the very air is poisoned. Like I enter a grey cloud the moment we get off the plane._

_And I *know* it's superstitious nonsense and I *know* I should just ignore it, but - why did I come here again?_

_You are, as always, sensitive to my moods - well, you're a survivor, if anything, and being sensitive to my moods is essential for that - and try to cheer me up._

_OK, the night in the woods was unexpectedly fun - especially because there was a luxurious car waiting to carry us back to our hotel the moment I had enough of all the nature. But it is always surprisingly sexy to see you do such manly things as building a fire out of nothing out in the woods, and catch, gut, and cook a fresh fish (for yourself - I have a delicate stomach, thank you very much), and use a stream to keep our drinks cool. And you are happy as a clam when you get to show off, so it's worth it to indulge you occasionally._

_And yes, the flaming marshmallow fight was fun..._

_But you're not cheering me up until we are in our BnB and I've locked Ireland safely out, Sebastian._

_It's only for three days... At least month-ago me realized I wouldn't be able to cope with Ireland any longer than that._

_When we get to the manor, we are greeted by the butler and a footman, who help us with our luggage. But before showing us to our rooms, the butler asks if we like cats._

_What?_

_"We appear to have a feline guest at the moment. He is very sweet, but refuses to leave. And some of the staff and guests have become very fond of him, so we decided to let him stay for now. Of course we are aware that not all people are enamoured of cats, so we keep him confined to the west wing and the adjacent grounds. Hence the question - would you prefer rooms with or without a feline companion? He is clean and well-behaved, and doesn't meow at the bedroom door. His toilet is in the staff quarters, so you don't need to worry about unpleasant smells."_

_Ireland forgotten, I look at you, wide-eyed._

_"Tiger! *Kitty!!!*"_

I listen to this very strange query, feeling like we’ve slipped into some strange alternate dimension. What hotel asks if you mind a cat in your apartment??

Your dream hotel, _clearly_ , I think with amusement as I look at your starry eyes.

I look at the butler with a wry smile. “We’ll take the rooms with the feline companion, thank you...”

_Our suitcases are carried up and I follow excitedly. A kitty! Who'd have expected a kitty! I hope he's friendly. I'm really missing Hypatia. I'm sure she won't be able to smell him on me when we get back..._

_The butler sees me looking around, smiles. "I'll see if we can get Keith to make an appearance..."_

_I grin. "Keith?" Seems an odd choice for a cat name..._

_He chuckles. "There was a young family staying here when he joined us. The boy, who must have been about six, said the cat had told him his name was Keith, and he would not hear otherwise. He loved the cat - was always talking with him and petting him, and Keith was very indulgent. And well, as you can see, the name stuck."_

_He walks into the hallway. "Keith? Keith my boy! There are new guests! Do you want to say hello? Oh, there you are - hello! Look, these are the new people, Mr and Mr Joneson."_

_He gestures at us, and a little blob of the darkness in the hallway takes on a furry shape and pads towards us, tail held high, ears perked up inquisitively._

_"Oh my god - he's *gorgeous!!!*" I gasp, grasping your arm._


	5. A Fine Gentleman

I shake my head, chuckling. Within an instant you’re kneeling on the floor, which you would do for no one but a cat (and well, with me during certain sex acts, but _certainly_ not submissively... anyway. Focus, Seb.)

Keith goes straight to you and delicately sniffs your face. You are positively gleeful, and I leave you alone with the kitty while I direct the butler about plans for dinner, breakfast, etc.

When he leaves, I look over at you - now lying on the floor, with the kitty sitting on your chest. You’re scratching his head and he’s purring so loudly I can hear it from across the room.

“I suspect the other guests will be seeing a little less of Keith while we’re here...” I grin.

_I get onto the floor to have a look at our feline friend - and he *likes me!* He sniffs my face and lets me pet him, and rubs against me, and I lie down and he *walks on top of me*, purring - he's *adorable!*_

_"Tiger! Look at him!" I whisper loudly. "He loves me!!"_

_He's so beautiful - I mean, no one is as gorgeous as Hypatia, of course, but he's *so fluffy* and his eyes are deep and green..._

_"Jim? Are you going to get up off the floor, or are you happy to be a cat bed for the rest of our stay?"_

_"Don't listen to the Tiger. He's just jealous," I explain to Keith, scratching him behind his little ears, which makes him close his eyes, press his head up, and purr even louder._

Really, Jim? You _just met_ , I find myself thinking, then shake my head at my response.

Jesus, Sebastian... what do you think is going to happen? He’ll spend all his time with Keith?

If he wants to play with a cat, he can play with a cat...

I watch as you coo at the cat, and he rubs against your face.

“I’m not _jealous_ ,” I say loftily, and throw myself onto the sofa.

_Awwwwww, you're *jealous!* You're using your *I'm not jealous* voice. So cute..._

_"Come, Keith, shall we go say hello to the Tiger? He looks intimidating, but he's a big softie, really..."_

_Keith seems to understand, hops off me, follows me to the sofa rubbing round my legs, and jumps onto your lap._

I groan as suddenly there’s a cat in my lap...

I’ve adored the cats we’ve had over the years - but every time you’ve wanted a new one, it’s always been a battle of wills - about whether it was the right time in our lives for a new cat, or if the older cat would want to share their kingdom with a bratty kitten, etc., etc.

One guess whose will tended to emerge victorious... although it always shocked me that you would actually listen to me, and sulk when you weren’t getting your way instead of just vetoing my opinion outright...

Anyway I didn’t think I’d have to deal with a cat on holiday, but here he is.

And yes, he’s a cute little fucker...

He’s staring at me as piercingly as you do, then smugly butting his head into my chest as if to say I don’t have a choice in the matter.

Big surprise...

“Hello, Keith,” I say indulgently, and give him the requisite scratching around the ears. “Yes, you’re _very_ pretty... aren’t you...”

_Ah good, you have succumbed. I don't know why you resist, Sebastian... you know you will fall for them eventually. Besides, you're the animal person. Animals love you, of all species - whereas me, they only like if they can suck my blood._

_I sit down next to you, join in the scratching, sending Keith into a stupor of bliss. His eyes are closed, he's melted onto your lap, and his purring would wake the dead._

_"I guess it's up to me then to get the drinks," I smile. "Beer, Tiger?"_

“Apparently,” I say, staring perplexed at Keith who’s now bathing on my lap. How exactly did this happen?

“Thank you,” I call after you as you head to the refrigerator in the kitchenette that’s been stocked to our specifications.

I stare at Keith. “Don’t get too comfy,” I warn him. “I’m not sitting here all evening...”

Keith stops bathing and blinks at me languidly. Then he rests his face on my thigh and closes his eyes.

“No,” I groan. “ _Not_ going to happen, kitty...”

A slight swish of his tail tells me he understands me well enough - and doesn’t care.

When you return with beer for me and rum and coke for you, you snigger at my expression as I stare in disbelief at the dozing cat.

“Ha ha,” I sigh. “Perhaps you could deposit His Excellency onto a comfortable chair?”

_"His Excellency has a perfectly comfortable chair, by the looks of it," I nod at Keith, who's got the look of a cat who is *very comfortable* and *not going to move*._

_"Can I do anything for you, Tiger? Turn on the telly? Play some music? Read you a book?"_

_My left hand moves back to Keith for scratches behind the ears. He's incredibly soft. Right, Ireland isn't all bad. Its humans suck but its kitties are cute._

I huff, somewhat playfully. “Oh, I don’t know... perhaps you and Keith can decide on the entertainment for the evening, and just keep me informed - if you think of it...” I lean my head back against the sofa, and watch you raise an eyebrow and continue to pet the fluffball on my lap - feeling too lazy and in love to protest further.

_I pick up the remote, switch on the telly, select the Films channel. "Oh look, Labyrinth! I love that one - shall we watch that?" I ask, as I'm already selecting it._

I grin. “You know I had a massive crush on Bowie in that film... I may have to eject dear Keith from the room by the time it’s done...”

I look down at the kitty, who appears to be sleeping like the dead. You raise an eyebrow and give me a lofty look as if to say ‘you will do no such thing, Sebastian...’

I roll my eyes. “Any good snacks in the kitchen?” I sigh.

_I *humph* at your crush on Bowie. *And* at your suggestion to eject Keith from the room. And *then* at you sending me to the kitchen like a common servant._

_I come back with a tray with nuts, cheese and crackers, and crisps. I looked for cat treats, but there aren't any - they must keep them in the staff kitchen. I'm sure Keith will like some brie, though..._

_I cut off a bit, and he sniffs it, then bats it, then dives after it. You jump as he's diving at your crotch, making him dig his nails into your legs to keep his balance, making you yelp and pull him off your lap, pulling his nails out of your skin, making you curse as you drop him on the floor._

_"Well that's not smart. You know better than to pull a cat off - now you're bleeding," I point at the needle-points in your leg._

I heave a sigh. “Why is it that when there’s a kitten in my lap, I’m likely to end up bleeding?”

“Sounds like the common denominator is a foolish Tiger,” you say sweetly. Crouching on the floor, you make soothing noises at the kitty - trying to coax him to jump back up.

“If you get him back up here, he can sit in _your_ lap,” I say drily. “He’s already put enough holes in me for one night...”

“Yes, Sebbie _can_ be very grumpy,” you murmur into Keith’s rumpled fur. “But we keep him around because he’s cute...”

“Jesus,” I mutter, and tear open a package of crisps.

_I get back up onto the sofa, check if Keith is a cat that allows himself to be picked up - he is. He happily settles on my lap as I flick through the other films._

_"I thought we were going to watch Labyrinth?" you ask, your mouth full of crisps._

_"No talking with your mouth full, Sebastian..." I chide._

_"And we're going to watch a film without anyone you have a crush on... though that probably narrows it down a lot. Wall-E maybe? Microcosmos?"_

“Come onnn,” I coax. “I won’t pay attention to anyone on screen, I swear... I’ll be completely fixated on the plot, and the beautiful man next to me...”

You gesture at Keith pointedly.

“And the very charming cat, of course,” I say graciously.

_"Alright, then..." I concede. "I do really like Labyrinth... and of course I had a crush on the Goblin King. Everyone did."_

_I select the film. "You like fairy tales, Keith?"_

_He opens his eyes at the mention of his name, narrows them at me._

_"Good!" I press play, nudge into your shoulder until you wrap your arm around me._

_Ah, bliss... A Tiger around me, a cat on my lap, rum and coke in my hand, a good film on the telly._

_I could almost not be in Ireland._

It’s the perfect way to settle in to our first night here. You can ignore where we are to the best of your abilities - and the presence of Keith helps in that regard as well, I have to admit... and he’s a cute little fucker, despite the claw marks he left in my thigh.

Given your propensity for attracting fluffy feral creatures, it wasn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last..

When the film ends, all three of us are left blinking drowsily on the sofa.

“Well... where does His Excellency go for the night?” I ask, resigning myself already to your answer.

_"I'll be sleeping in our bed, of course, Tiger..." I purr._

_"Jim..."_

_"Keith can sleep wherever he chooses. Do you want to sleep on our bed, Keith? Nice and warm and soft? Tiger doesn't snore *too* badly..."_

And just as if he understands what’s been said, Keith hops off your lap - and heads for the bedroom, tail swishing.

I groan. “Of course. Well, then. Shall we get ready to join Kitty Dearest in his room?”

_"Sounds dreamy, Tiger... I haven't slept sandwiched between two kitties for *ages*."_

_You switch off the lights as I walk to the bedroom, where Keith is already walking circles on the bed in preparation of his repose. In the middle of the bed, of course - I nudge under the blankets, carefully moving him._

As I wait for you to move him like a precious object, I shake my head at your obsessive adoration of all things feline - I mean, I get loving your own pets. But you’ve just met this cat... and now you’re cuddling with him in bed?

I slip under the covers. “Am I going to get any of that sweet, sweet love?” I ask wryly. “Or is it all for kitty tonight?”

_"Awwww, big kitty is jealous, Keith," I smile. "You know I love you the most, Tigger... don't jostle him!"_

I grow still under the covers. Jesus, I had just been going in for a cuddle...

“If Keithy-darling is going to be comfortable here all night... perhaps he needs to grow accustomed to humans moving their limbs on occasion?” I ask pleasantly, and slip an arm around your waist.

I was fully prepared to yank you towards me to show Keith who’s the top kitty - but I don’t think that would go over very well with the one who I want sweet, sweet loving from...

_Keith huffs irritably, moves over you to lie behind you._

_"Now look what you've done. You've moved him away! Keithy - come back darling, Tiger's not going to move any more... *if he knows what's good for him*," I growl._

“Of course, Keithy,” I agree. “Lord knows I’ve learned the critical nature of lying perfectly still in bed so as not to disturb feline guests...” I roll my eyes.

Very purposefully I stretch out yawning, and fluff the pillows under my head.

“Starting now,” I say smugly as you scowl at me.

“Wait - now,” I say, and pull you towards me with a grin.

_"Ti-gerrrrrr..." I growl, but snuggle close. You are surprisingly comfortable; your shoulder and arm made to hold me. I move my hand over your chest, and Keith jumps on it, trying to catch it through the duvet. I move my hand, and he pounces. We play this game for a bit, until he settles down on your chest to sleep._

_Fine with me._

Once again, I find myself with a cat lying on me in bed. Well, I suppose I shouldn’t complain too much - anything that eases your stay in Ireland is a good thing, even if that means I don’t get as much ‘attention’ as I’d like...

“Love you, Kitten - _you_ , Kitten,” I specify. “Keith is a fine gentleman, but we just met...”

You giggle and pet the cat-shaped lump on my chest.

“Love you too, Tigger,” you murmur.

“Sleep well, baby,” I mumble and find myself drifting the moment my eyes shut.

_Soon you're snoring lightly. You hardly ever snore, so you must have a light cold. Normally I'd push you on your side, but not with Keith sleeping on you - I'll have to bear it. It's not loud._

_I lie awake for a bit, listening to the sounds outside - an owl, a fox - and think of what to do the coming days. I came here to enjoy myself - a defiance of Ireland's curse on me - but I kind of forgot that you can't force yourself to have fun._

_Oh well. It's only three days, and then we're off to New York. I just have to try not to kill anyone, and at least pretend to have fun. That'll show them._

_I don't know which them. Just - them._

_Finally the soothing sounds of a purring kitty and Tiger lull me to sleep._

I find myself walking, walking, walking through a cave - it goes on seemingly forever, but I know you’re in here in the underground caverns somewhere and I _have to find you..._

There are strange glowing marks on the cave walls. I squint at the spirals and what looks like - an arcane language? Nothing I recognize, though...

I trace a symbol, and I have the impression of a crown - ancient and heavy.

“ _Uneasy is the head that wears a crown_ ,” I murmur in a daze.

Why did I say that?? I shiver and back away from the glowing marks.

“Jim?” I call out. “Jim!!”

_What?!_

_I'm the one who's supposed to be having bad dreams in Ireland, Sebbie..._

_You often have nightmares, though nowhere near as much as you used to. And all too often, they involve me... and that always brings a sting of guilt._

_"Honey - it's ok. I'm here..."_

_What was it this time? Was I dead? Or just in trouble…_

_"Sebbie... I'm here. We're alright. We're in bed..." I stroke your arm._

I hear your voice, and I go to follow the source - but it sounds like it’s coming from - above me? I look up to the ceiling of the cave - stalactites shimmer and then I see your face superimposed over them. What the fuck??

“How did you get up there?” I mutter, finding it difficult to form words. Bed?

_You're still dreaming - huh. It's not like you to get stuck in a dream; you usually are alert the moment you hear something. Keith is looking at you very intently, his ears perking forward._

_"Sebastian... my darling... it's alright. We're in bed. I'm here, you are here too. Do you feel my hand?"_

I blink up at your concerned face.

Ireland.

Castle.

Cat?? Cat.

Jim in bed - not cave. Not lost. Not on the ceiling.

Weird. Felt so real...

My hand floats up to yours, now stroking my shoulder.

“Yeah... feels nice...” I sigh, and close my eyes.

“You could move it further south... if you _wanted_...” I say with a dreamy smile.

_I chuckle. Oh, you’re back alright..._

_“Sebastian Moriarty. It’s three am. Just because you had a bad dream doesn’t mean Daddy’s going to give you special attention...”_

_Keith is still looking at you, but seems happy with what he sees and curls back up. I look at you. Do you want to talk? Probably not, if you tried to steer me to little Seb right away..._

_“You OK now my love?”_

I pout and my hands move to your shoulders.

“Mmm... in the morning, then...” I murmur, pulling you against me and pressing against your body. You feel so deliciously warm and soft to curl up around...

I move my face into your neck to breathe in your scent, and sigh contentedly.

“Love you, magpie... don’t go flying off,” I hear myself whisper into your hair, before falling back into the darkness.

_Magpie? You don't usually call me magpie. Just Kitten. Did you dream I was a magpie? That would fit with 'what are you doing up there'._

_Silly Tigger..._

_Keith decides it's time to lie on me, and makes himself comfortable on my hip, effectively immobilizing me. Oh well._

_I dream I'm following you down long tunnels, but you're a tiger so you're faster than I am, even though Keith is doing his best to keep up with you, but you're leaving the tunnels and I can't; I'm stuck, so I have to find... someone? to let you back in..._

_I wake up with weird laughter echoing in my ears..._

_I'll be glad when we get out of Ireland... should I move the flight to New York forward?_

_NO, damn it - I will *not* let Ireland get the better of me. We're going for a *fucking* walk and have dinner in a *fucking* pub and we're going to *FUCKING* enjoy it._

When I open my eyes, I see you looking at me.

I try to say ‘morning’ and I end up croaking something unintelligible.

My eyelids flutter shut and I groan. “God...” I say in a raspy voice. “I don’t remember when I last slept so deeply...”

I rub my eyes and open them again. “How’d you sleep, Kitten?”

You have an odd expression on your face.

“Jim?”

_"Yeah - yeah, sorry. Sleep - alright, I guess. Strange dreams, but then that's to be expected."_

_I look at the curtains - it looks like it's actually sunny._

_"Let's have breakfast, Tigger..." I yawn. "We have a long day of looking at boring countryside ahead of us..."_

“Oh, let’s,” I say, feeling more alert at the thought of a hearty breakfast. Maybe it will help me shake some of these cobwebs loose from my mind.

“I’ll call for room service,” I yawn, stretching. “And you, Excellency?” I direct this to Keith who gets up and walks over to me, yawning too. I reach over to stroke his head, and he starts to purr and rub his cheek against my hand.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” I coo as he closes his eyes and bumps his head against my chest. I feel your eyes on me and I clear my throat and sit up. I’d better not get carried away or you’ll be insisting that he either travel with us or be sent to our home - either way a lot of making arrangements that I’d have to do, and no, not another cat, Jim! We don’t even know how Hypatia would feel about a new cat arriving...

I get up and head to the bathroom, stifling a groan. It’s way too early in the morning to be thinking about this, and anyway - it hasn’t happened. It’s not going to happen, I think as I have a piss.

I blink at myself in the mirror drowsily. God. I’m not usually this groggy in the morning, even after heavy drinking or travelling or both.

Something about what you said clicks in my mind as I head back into the bedroom.

“I had strange dreams, too...” I remark. “Something about losing you in a cave... and you were - a bird...”

_"Losing me in a cave?" I look up at you, stop petting Keith, who indignantly butts my hand to get me to start again._

_"I lost you in a cave too..." I frown, trying to remember. "And you were a tiger. Well - you often are in my dreams."_

_The cave is odd though. How often do we run after each other in caves?_

_"According to Jung, caves represent the security of the unconscious - so we're afraid of losing each other when we're unconscious? Oh, whatever... but if we find any caves today, Tiger, we're not going in."_

_Keith is purring loudly, rubbing against my hand with all his might. "I'm sorry kitty, we're going to want to have a shower... and I'm sure you won't want to join us for that."_

I grab the phone on the bedside table. “Hold that thought... by the time we finish, breakfast will arrive soon after...”

I place an order, leaving enough time for impromptu sex acts, just in case. Keithy darling will just have to deal with it, or visit a hotel guest who’s not getting laid.

As we head to the bathroom, I think about the strangeness of our having dreamed of the same location. “Fine... no subterranean adventures today. But I’m sure Jung would agree with his former bestie Freud that sometimes a cave is just a cave...”

I fondle your arse as we walk in. “Unless you unconsciously _want_ to get lost... someplace dark and inviting...” I say in a husky voice, and you look back at me with a raised eyebrow.

I feel something swish past my leg and I look down. “Keith sweetie... it’s about to get too steamy in here for a young impressionable feline...” I look at you, grinning hopefully.

_“Sebastian Moriarty, you are incorrigible, insatiable, and luckily for you, incredibly sexy. No Keith, little voyeur...”_

_I push a protesting kitty out the door, close it behind him. Indignant meowing starts. I shake my head._

_“Now, Sebbie... how are you going to make me forget I’m in Ireland, as well as blank out the crying kitty?”_

I look at you for a long, hungry moment, then start the shower.

Returning to where you stand waiting, I push you firmly against the door. I press my body against yours, and capture your lips with mine.

After a few moments of kissing which grows more heated by the moment, I tear my lips away and pull you into the shower.

Of course I test the water first- too hot, just as you like it - then I lower myself to my knees, and with water cascading down our bodies, I take your beautiful cock into my mouth - and I remind you why you declared me the best cocksucker you could ever imagine.

True, I had a lot of practice before you - but they all blur together in my memory, and really they were just a warm-up.

To _this_...

I make a sound of pleasure low in my throat as I take you deeper into my mouth.

Mmm... _Jim_...

_Well. I say. *Boisterous* Tiger. Pushing me against the door - me, with my delicate frame._

_But such lovely intense kissing... and such a taut muscular delectable body pressing against mine. I may forgive you..._

_And then - a time-honoured classic, for a reason -_

_Tiger on his knees in the shower *never* gets old. I've protested against you doing this, in flare-ups of altruism - it can't be good for your dodgy knee, at least use a rubber mat or something to kneel on - but you insist that there's nothing as hot as kneeling on a hard floor in front of me, and who am I to argue..._

_... and you are *so good* at this. It's like you get better every year... and you've had *many* years to perfect your art._

_... yeah, ok. Ireland and kitty well and truly forgotten, well and truly lost in the dark and inviting Cave of the Tiger's Mouth..._

I look up at you and you stare down at me in a daze before your head falls back and you groan with pleasure.

Don’t know what’s come over me - one moment I can barely open my eyes, the next I’m pushing you into a door, dragging you into the shower...

god, I could totally just push you against the wall and fuck you so hard -

My fingers dig into your hips.

Your eyelids flutter open and I give you a feral smile around your cock.

God, I feel positively _bestial_... like I could _devour_ you, and eat enough breakfast for three men. Or one very hungry Tiger...

_That's one hungry look down there. That's fine Tiger, you just keep doing what you're doing... you do it *so* well..._

_You're grasping me possessively, using your tongue and the water to make me *mad*, then take me deep -_

_and I'm holding on to the shower hook for dear life as you pull my pleasure out of me with your unparalleled masterful skill - oh *fuck* -_

_"Tiger - oh fucking hell - Seb - oh *god* -"_

Yeah... that’s it, baby...

come for me...

I make a rumbling sound in my throat, as you moan and shake so beautifully - fuck, you’re so hot...

I swallow you down, feeling the aftershocks reverberating through you.

“Mmm... _now_ it’s a good morning,” I purr, grasping your thighs.

You shiver, still holding on to the shower hook.

I hoist myself up leaning against the shower wall. Not great for my knee, like you always tell me. Well, I’m an idiot for love - always have been. Always will be.

I lean in to kiss you - still looking dazed, I notice smugly.

“It was the least I could do before dragging you through the boring countryside...” I say with a smirk.

_"Hngh... you can drag me through the boringest countryside you like Tiger..." I say, still dazed. "Even the Irish countryside..."_

_I notice Little Seb being not so Little, eager to get some attention too. Fair enough - but I'm not kneeling down._

_I reach down, making you gasp and kiss me with renewed hunger._

You’re not consistently in the mood to reciprocate in the mornings, and that’s fine - but when you do, _god_... you make my mind _melt_.

We kiss fervently until I break off to start panting - then you push me against the wall, and stroke me harder and faster.

“Oh god... fuck...” I gasp, my head falling against the wall.

_You are so gorgeous in your orgasm; I can never get enough of looking at it._

_You fling yourself headfirst at anything in life - whether it's danger, music, food, or sex - you dive in and fully immerse yourself; whereas I sit on the edge looking at all sides, spending my time anticipating even when I'm in the middle of something. Often not realizing I am enjoying something until it's over..._

_I got better at that - much better. But I still love looking at you savouring something good; a nice whisky, good food, or, best of all of course, *me*._

_Your eyes are screwed shut, your head is against the wall, your fists clenched, and I dip to my haunches to use my lips for the final few moments._

Oh god... now your mouth...

I let out a low groan, and my body jerks against you.

And then it’s all shivers and moaning and mad thrusting...

And an explosive shuddering orgasm that leaves me gripping the shower rod and howling at the ceiling - and then my open mouth is soon sputtering with water from the shower.

Which leaves you sniggering at me even as you swallow me down.

I cough indignantly. “Just what- is so - funny, Kitten?” I gasp, as I try to catch my breath.

_"Here everyone thought you were impossible to kill, but what finally does you in is drowning during an orgasm," I snigger. "I'm delighted you're so overwhelmed by my skills that you decide to waterboard yourself..."_

_You *humph* and flick water at me, which seems a bit pointless in a shower._

_Now our orgasms have subsided, my attention is once again drawn to the persistent meowing at the door._

_"He's really taken a liking to us... must recognize kindred spirits."_

“Must be...” I say indulgently. Once I’ve towelled you off, you open the door.

Keith comes in, sniffs the steamy air, and promptly looks indignant.

“What do you disapprove of, Keithy darling? The pheromones, or the steam? Both are his fault -“ I say pointing to you. Jesus, I almost referred to you as Daddy.

What is with this cat?

You’ve already dropped down to start petting and cooing at the furry darling and apologizing for making him wait.

I roll my eyes as I dry off. “He’ll get over it,” I say drily. “I’m sure he’ll forget all about his trauma once he smells breakfast...”

My stomach growls.

“Mmm, breakfast...” I murmur, throw on a plush dressing gown hanging from a hook, and head into the suite to wait for delicious food to arrive.

_"Don't you listen to Tiger, Keith... it was all his fault. He's the insatiable one, not me. You'll see when breakfast is here. You're lucky if either of us gets thrown a scrap..."_

I laugh out loud from the living room.

“That’s right... I’ll be the insatiable tiger devouring the entire tray while the poor, sad kittens sit and watch...”

Just then, there’s a knock on the door. “Perfect timing,” I grin as you exit the bathroom in a matching dressing gown, with Keith at your heels. “Prepare to go hungry, my dears!”

_"See what I have to put up with?" I ask Keith, but he's not interested in me any more - his eyes are on the table where the servers are laying out our breakfast._

_These felines are all the same. You're their everything - until bacon arrives._

_"Come along now, Keith, I'll get you your breakfast downstairs," one of the servers says as he's walking off - and Keith is gone in a flash._

_I sigh. "*Typical*."_

“Aww... sorry you lost your furry companion, sweetheart,” I say with a grin. “You’ll just have to make do with an inelegant tiger with a wonky knee...”

I lift the lids of the trays and breathe in the divine scents. “Fuck me, I could eat a horse...” I declare, and start heaping eggs and bacon onto our plates.

You protest, and I shake my head. “You need protein for the walk. And you know I’ll just eat your leftovers...” I spoon some mushrooms and tomatoes on our plates, and then spear a hash brown onto my fork and cram it into my mouth.

“Good,” I mumble. “S’very good...”

_I eat a bit of everything - it *is* good, but I can't wait to get to New York where one can get maple syrup pancakes for breakfast. The full English/Scottish/Irish has always seemed like a great idea to me, if then you go out and plough a potato field for fourteen hours; not if your main job is cerebral._

_You steal most of my bacon, but even you have to admit defeat in the face of this mountain of breakfast. I think of keeping a rasher to later treat Keith with, but I'm not sure where to store it hygienically. We could maybe get the kitchen to give us some meat - bacon isn't healthy for kitties anyway, it's way too salty._

_The day progresses much as expected. The sky is grey, the ground is green, the land is at various angles; you have a whale of a time, while I mostly try to concentrate on all the calories I'm burning and how I'm proving how much I've grown as a person by enjoying my holiday in Ireland._

_We end up in a typical country pub which you *love*, where country yokels speak loudly and incomprehensibly, and the ale is plentiful and cheap._

_I have a rum and coke._

I look at you sipping your rum and coke - you really didn’t enjoy today much, did you. So sweet of you to try for me…

“One more place I wouldn’t mind checking out - today or tomorrow...” I say casually. “There’s a cave not too far from here. We don’t have to go in too deep, but apparently there are amazing stalagmites...”

I watch you closely as I drink my ale. Will you go for it?

_If you taste of that ale later you're not getting any kisses. It smells of cat piss._

_"Oh delightful. Rock formations in the dark, so it's extra easy to stub your toe."_

_I've been trying to keep from being sarcastic *all day* Sebbie... you can't expect me to keep it up all night too..._

_Dinner is served. I ordered bangers and colcannon - it's my one Irish indulgent comfort food. You've learnt to cook it to perfection if I need it..._

_This particular dish is done beautifully, smells divine, and I'm slightly mollified._

_"Alright Tiger. If you want to look at rocks in the dark, we'll go and look at rocks in the dark."_

I grin at you. “Great! I even brought torches, just to be prepared...”

“Wonderful...” you drawl. “Nothing like a little mood lighting before you crawl into a hole in the ground and disappear forever. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take a lantern or a candelabra? Far more gothic, darling...”

I scoff. “I’ve been in caves that were _actually_ dangerous, darling. This one is supposed to be safe. I know what I’m doing and I won’t endanger us - we’ll just go in a little way, ooh and ahh over the stalagmites, and then head back...”

“The things I do for love...” you sigh, and sip your rum and coke.

“Yeah... and I’m so worth it,” I smirk, and neck my beer.

_And I'm not even smirking at 'we'll just go in a little way and ooh and ahh'. Look how mature I'm being, Seb._

_And - well - stalagmites are more interesting than nature in general. Definitely better-behaved._

_"There won't be spiders in your cave, will there? You will go first._

_Or bats? If I get a bat in my hair, I'll impale you on the nearest stalagmite."_

“Of course I’ll go first...” I grin. “Would I let my beloved husband bear the brunt of the danger? Which doesn’t exist? I can’t speak for spiders, but they won’t go flying through the air at you.” Fuck. Why’d I say that. Now you look downright haunted.

“No mention of bats in the guide book - families visit the cave, Jim. We’ll be fine...” You don’t look convinced, draining your rum and coke and placing the glass down with precision.

“And if you impale me on a stalagmite, you’ll have the pleasure of knowing my body will likely be discovered by a tour group the next day... imagine the screams,” I say cheerfully, and dig into my cottage pie.

_"Oh, I'm imagining the screams alright..." I say gloweringly._

_Caves. Humanity evolved for a hundred thousand years to get *out* of caves, and Sebastian Moriarty wants to go right back in. Absolutely typical. If you could have been a Neanderthal you would have been delighted. Club meat, drag to cave, eat half raw, fuck mate, repeat._

_As we get to the hotel, Keith is asleep on our sofa. "How did you get in here?" I ask him. Did housekeeping lock him into our rooms? That seems careless of them._

_He seems happy enough, not dying to get out, so I sit down and pet him, and he rewards me with loud purrs._

_"Sebastian is dragging me into caves tomorrow... can you believe that?"_

_There must be something in my voice, because he stops purring and looks at me with big eyes, his ears perking forward, like he's dying to tell me something._

I exit the bathroom, and see you petting Keith - then he puts his paws on your lap, and stretches up to sniff your face - you lean down and gaze into his eyes. It looks almost like you’re both communicating without words.

“What does Keithy have to say?” I ask lightly.

_"He says that it's well-known that Irish caves are dangerous to Irish men, and that the only way to ward off the evil spirits is a magnificent blow job before and after the visit."_

_Keith huffs and turns around. Oh, wasn't that what you meant kitty?_

“Oh is that what he said,” I say drily. “Before _and_ after. Well, it’s a good thing our Keith is so well-versed in cave safety! I wonder where he learned his Irish folklore...” I move towards the sofa, and scratch the kitty behind the ears.

_"Everyone knows cats are magical," I say, as Keith starts purring and threading._

_"Time for beds, kitty cat - I'll leave the door open for you. But you'll have to leave in the morning because we're going to indulge in some family-unfriendly behaviour."_

My ears perk up. “Family-unfriendly-?” I echo. “Magnificent blow job The First?”

_"None other. And you better make it magnificent - don't want your husband to be abducted by elves at his age."_

_Keith's ears perk up again, and he looks at me like he understands me. You're a funny little kitty, aren't you..._

“Oh _of course_ I will,” I croon. “You’ll have all the magnificent blow jobs required.”

I extend my hand to you. “Well, the sooner we get to bed, the sooner your cock will be in my mouth,” I smirk. “Anything to ensure your safety, baby...”

_"Best. Bodyguard. Ever," I smile as you bow me into the bedroom. A nice warm shower, a customary cuddle, Keith settling on your chest again, purring, my head on your shoulder, not purring, because due to some design flaw I can't._

It doesn’t take me long to fall asleep. And in the morning, I feel like I’ve been dreaming long and hard - but I can’t remember about what. Not like yesterday morning, when I vividly remembered - wait, what was _that_ dream about?

I open my eyes and see Keith still on my chest, staring at me - for a second, it looks like he’s _winking_ \- but no, he’s just sitting there looking drowsy. I shake my head. Clearly coffee is needed.

You stir, and I gently nudge Keith off my chest, much to his indignation.

“Morning, sunshine,” I purr, nuzzling your neck.

_"Mmm. I guess," I grouch, digging my head into your shoulder._

_I had such intense dreams... I try to remember them but they are just there at the edge of my consciousness and when I try to focus on them they slip away. I think they had something to do with caves, though... fire? and - the cat?_

_No - I can't recall._

_Anyway. I foresee coffee and blow jobs in my future. That almost makes up for putting me underground later._

_You're nuzzling and touching but I want to get those dreams out of my head; they're unsettling._

_"Coffee first, Tiger..."_

I give you a pouty smile as I get up. “Oh alright...” I murmur, and lean down to kiss your lips.

“Plant images in a guy’s mind and then make him wait...” I grumble playfully, and head to the kitchenette.

_"I don't know why you have plant images in your mind, but I hope they are of the Coffea canephora variety," I grumble. Fuck - I don't usually get so engrossed in dreams that they linger, and I hate it when they do. It colours your entire day._

_I get up, pull open the curtains. Ah, look, a magnificent vista of grey and green, you can see all the way to about twenty metres down the road. Misty and wet._

_Why did we come here again?_

_Keith hops onto the windowsill, rubs his head against my elbow. He at least is one good thing about Ireland..._

_"Who's a cute kitty then? Shall we open our laptop and see how Uncle Matty is getting on?"_

Aww... poor grumpy Kitten, I think as I walk grinning towards the posh espresso maker. Extra-strong americanos coming up...

By the time I bring you yours, you’re engrossed in your laptop and absentmindedly rubbing Keith’s head.

“So? How’s Matty doing?” I ask and place the cup in your extended hand.

_"Seems to be doing fine. Busy - his reports are terse, but to the point. He still hasn't got to the Chilean guy though. "- I keep forgetting his name, which is a worrying effect of getting older. The doctor said forgetting the occasional name was perfectly normal but I'm *not* perfectly normal and I do *not* forget stuff._

_I sip the coffee - hot and strong and sweet._

_"Well?"_

Hmmm... should I be worried about Matty not resolving this little issue yet? Nah, he knows to ask for help if he needs it.

I look up at your question. “Well what?” I ask, my brow furrowing.

_"I believe the order was first coffee, then blowjob. I've got the coffee," I raise my mug at you._

I chuckle. “So you’re going to drink coffee as I blow you? Remember, you asked for _magnificence_ \- you’re not going to spill it all over both of us, are you...” I say with a suggestive smirk.

_"After all these years, you still underestimate my skills in drinking coffee and receiving blowjobs?" I ask, shocked._

_"Very well - I accept your challenge. Magnificent blow job skills pitched against epic coffee drinking abilities."_

_I lean back in my chair, open my legs. "All yours..."_

My eyes drop to your pelvis, and then a moment later, I’m on my knees and tugging on your designer pants.

You lift your hips then take a sip of coffee, while staring at me challengingly.

Carefully, so carefully, I pull the expensive fabric down over your thighs and legs - and slide them from your feet. They end up on the floor, which makes you huff - but I’m already too fixated to pay much notice. I’ve been on the receiving end of your (sometimes playful, sometimes not) disapproval for decades, and I’m more than equipped to take it in stride. If anything it eggs me on - and you know it.

All part of the underlying game in our marriage, which amuses us endlessly - I can’t imagine it not being a part of our daily repartee.

So I merely flash you an innocent look like ‘what’ before I capture my prize with a smirk - your beautiful cock waiting for me to pleasure it magnificently.

My lips slide over the head and with a low moan, I get to work.

_Ohhhh yes... I should have married you the moment I first felt your lips on my cock. What was I thinking... like I could *ever* do without this..._

_Fortunately I have never since been lacking... except for that one year which we don't talk about._

_I lean my hand on your head, and lean back in my chair, enjoying the wonder of your mouth - the only hole I want to disappear in today..._

When I hear your first moan, I grin. More follow, and soon I have your head falling back and your body shivering... god those gasps and groans are like a symphony to me...

and no showers of coffee yet.

I hunker down to reach the grand finale...

_You're really pulling out all the stops, aren't you... You must have sucked my cock thousands of times over the years and you know *every* bit of it; what makes me shiver, what makes me gasp, what makes me come *so hard*... and you're using every trick in the book. I'm grasping the chair with one hand, your hair with the other, as I release inside you, making noises that make Keith look up in irritation from the chair where he's curled up, presumably trying to sleep._

_"Fuck... Sebasti*aaaaah*hahan..."_

Mmm... moaning my name... that’s what I wanted to hear...

I continue my good work, swallowing you down and gently sucking until you’re protesting that it’s too much, and pulling me off your cock by my hair.

I smile with satisfaction as you stare at me in a daze, your fingers still twisted in my hair.

“Good?” I ask innocently, my hands resting on your thighs.

_"Ghrhmnhm," I purr. Nothing like a Tiger blowjob. You could be a world champion, if there were world championships in blowjobs. How would they be judged though? I wonder idly._

_Then I look at my coffee. Not cold yet. I take a deep draught._

_"Now *that's* a good morning..." I say contently. "Will you ring for breakfast, Tiger?"_

“But of course, my darling,” I purr, rising and nuzzling your cheek. Nothing like servicing my man to put me in a stellar mood. It doesn’t look like you’ll be reciprocating at the moment, which is fine.

I grab the phone and wait as I’m put on hold.

“One magnificent blow job down... not a drop of coffee spilled... and after a short jaunt to a cave, one more Magnificent. Fucking. Blow job to go-o-oh, _hello!_ I’d like to place a breakfast order, please...”

I press a knuckle against my mouth to keep from bursting out laughing.

“Ehm. Yes, of course, Sir...What can we do for you?” the female voice wavers only slightly before snapping back to fully professional.

“Yes. The same as yesterday, please...” I say, posh accent firmly in place.

“Our pleasure, Sir...” she says brightly.

“Oh, the pleasure is all ours...” I say smoothly, as my shoulders shake. “Thanks ever so much... Goodbye.” I hang up the phone sniggering.

You shake your head at me in amusement.

“Oops,” I say cheerfully. “Well, now they know what goes on up here... how will we _ever_ show our faces again?” I throw my arms around your neck and cover your face with kisses.

_"Did you just order a blow job to go?" I raise my eyebrows._

_"Not a bad idea, actually... maybe I should have ordered a blow job in the cave, as well. Though - no. I don't want to stay there any longer than needed. Anyway - please stop shocking the staff. Poor Keith has turned his back to us already..."_

_Breakfast is brought up by a server who doesn't blush, even when I ask him to blow on my sausage because it's too hot. He just looks at me and does it, while you are cramming a napkin into your mouth in an effort to stifle your laughter._

_When he's gone I raise an eyebrow at you. "Honestly Tiger... you'll hear innuendo in anything."_

I scoff as I tuck into my eggs. “Innuendo, yes. Not like you were playing with the staff like a cat with a mouse... my little sadist...” I say fondly.

_"You started it. They're probably shaking their heads in the kitchen about the nice old gentlemen who turned out to be such incorrigible lushes..."_

_We finish our breakfast, and an hour later the car that's going to drive us near the cave arrives. I'm dressed in wool and tweed, perfect dense fabrics to keep Ireland out, and keep me warm in a cave. Keith is sitting on my lap, systematically destroying my £600 wool trousers with his little nails. I wonder if I can get out of going to the cave by claiming I can't get up as there's a cat in my lap - a valid excuse in our London penthouse, which has led to poor Hypatia occasionally being grabbed from a peaceful slumber and plonked onto my lap - but I guess I'd better get it over with. You are cutely excited and if I am a sweet husband now you'll dutifully feign interest when we're in the Department of Astrophysics in New York._

_It seems that marriage is a careful exchange of simulating enthusiasm. Oh well. At least there are plenty of areas where neither of us have to fake anything..._

When I let you know the car has arrived, you sigh like the bloody drama queen you are, and lift Keith off your lap who immediately jumps down on the floor and waits at the door.

“Enjoy your day, Keithy,” I coo as I open the door for him. He looks at me expectantly.

“You don’t think you’re coming with us, do you...” I grin, and he stares at me indignantly and licks a paw.

“God help me... there are two of you,” I mutter, as you look at him curiously.

_"Not quite - he seems far more eager to go to the cave than I am. Why don't you two make a nice day of it..." I turn around and make as if to walk back into the room, but you close the door._

_"Jim in the car, Keith in the kitchen," you point. "Dear god - it's true what they say about herding cats..."_

_I snort derisively and can't suppress a laugh when I hear Keith do the same. Right kitty? You'd love caves - chasing bats and whatnots with your see-in-the-dark eyes._

_Obediently I walk to the car, get in, and we drive the few miles to where the car stops next to a path._


	6. Green Insanity

I tell the driver we won’t be too long and we’ll call him. When we get out, I breathe in deeply of the fresh air, and you scowl at the landscape. God - you really have it in for Ireland, don’t you... I’m still amazed you decided to come here, and not for business. Taking account of the current state of your psyche - inspired by our retirement, I’m guessing - you always have to have data, even about emotions, and even if it puts you through hell.

I look at the cave mouth - it’s even lower to the ground than it seemed in the pictures - strange. We’ll have to crawl in, you’ll _love_ that.

We walk to the cave, and you stare at the entrance.

“Really, Sebastian? _This_ is the place you were dying to see?” you say drily.

I shrug, and get down on the ground, grinning. You roll your eyes and get down on your hands and knees.

“A magnificent blow job is in your future, if that helps...” I say innocently.

“A new husband may be in my future,” you grumble.

I chuckle. “Hopefully I can convince you to keep me - shall we?” I click on my torch.

You mumble something incoherent. I start to crawl into the darkness, my heart rate increasing.

_I look down at my woollen trousers. So this is what it's come to. Crawling into a hole in the ground like an animal. An *Irish* hole in the ground. A *muddy* hole in the ground._

_You've disappeared and I have half a mind to walk back to the car and order the driver to head back. But I said I'd do this..._

_With a heavy sigh, I get to my knees, and crawl after you. I see the moving light of the torch and your body behind it._

_"If those stalagmites are not in an area where I can stand up, I'm not looking at them," I complain._

_The acoustics in this place are weird - it's like I hear myself echoed back by lots of little voices._

“The tunnel will open up to the cave soon, and you can stand then,” I say cheerfully.

Oh fuck... this is muddier than I expected. And the tunnel is longer than I would have thought. Why didn’t the guide book say anything about this? They recommended it for families!

You’re going to murder me. I’m never leaving this cave. I’m indeed going to be found impaled on a stalagmite tomorrow by a tour guide and several screaming families. I stop and with a muddy hand shine the torch into the darkness.

“Almost there!” I shout in relief, as I see what looks like the end of the tunnel. Shit - I may just see sunshine again.

_I am never ever listening to you ever again Sebastian Moriarty. Crawling through a muddy tunnel - with my back - for what feels like miles and miles._

_'Almost there'. Yippee. We can look at some rocks and get back down to crawl back out._

_I'm never ever falling for your shit ever again._

_I see green light that doesn't look like torchlight - oh well *done* Sebastian. You've missed the cave and we've crawled straight through the mountain._

_No, it's not daylight - what is it then? Have they put up lamps in the cave? Thoughtful._

_You get up, stand still. I am about to make a sharp comment about the hand you are not extending to help me up, when you switch off the torch and I see the cave - or as much as is not hidden by your unmoving form. And I stop dead in my tracks as well._

_The cave *glows*. But there are no lamps. It's the rock itself, in astounding formations, rising up in stalagmites in capricious shapes, like an underground city inhabited by mad, invisible tiny beings -_

_I work myself upright, take the hand that you quickly offer when you remember I'm there, and stand next to you, staring at the impossible shapes radiating a sickly green glow._

_Bioluminescence, my brain provides. Fungi on the rock, growing into those fantastic shapes._

_Except I've never heard of bioluminescent fungi taking over an entire cave - what do they feed on??_

I stare at the glowing cave walls.

“Whoa...” I breathe. “That’s not in the guidebook...”

I look back at you, brow furrowing. “Jim, that’s - _not_ in the guidebook. How is it possible that they wouldn’t have mentioned it?”

“How it is possible that they wouldn’t have mentioned crawling through a tunnel of disgusting mud?” you mutter, cleaning your hands on wet-wipes and holding the discarded ones out to me.

“Thanks, I say dryly, tucking them away in a plastic bag in my pocket. “Seriously, Jim... could there be more than one entrance?” I step closer to the wall and study the glowing fungi, holding up my torch. Then I point to some formations on the floor. “Look - a ring of toadstools! But - there’s no dirt here...” I trail off.

_"Surprising, after the mud we've crawled through. They must sweep it all into the corridors," I say sarcastically._

_Then the erectile hairs in the back of my neck stand up, and I feel like I'm being watched. This is nonsense, because a, I'm not being watched and b, if I were, I wouldn't be able to 'feel' it; I'm not some bloody psychic._

_I turn around. I don't see you. You must have bent down to look at something._

_I don't hear you either._

_"Sebastian?"_

_I hear strange echoes, like someone is repeating my question in a silly voice, but I hear no reply._

I’m leaning down to look more closely at the toadstools - surely all these things should have been in the guidebook? Especially if there’s a separate entrance??

There’s an interesting scent as my face grows closer to the red caps on the white stems... mmm...

And then I feel the scent drifting further into the cave...

Around a corner...

Are there more of these toadstools?

If there are, I have to find them...

_Fuck's sake -_

_"Sebastian?!" (astian - astian - ian - ian - an...)_

_What the fuck is with those echoes? This cave isn't that big - is it?_

_And where the *fuck* are you!?_

_"*Sebastian!*" (an - an - an...)_

_Nothing._

_You would never ignore my sharp voice._

_So if you're not ignoring me, then - what happened?_

_*Where are you??*_

I stare dreamily at the fungi growing in sweeping spirals all over the cave. It’s glowing even brighter, and I hear what sounds like a rhythmic drumbeat... from deep in the earth.. my heartbeat slowly syncs up with it, and I stare stupefied at the wall as the glowing light seems to pulse - first one section of the cave wall, then another section seems to respond - as if the fungi are communicating...

Do I hear... singing? No... impossible...

My face draws nearer.

There’s definitely a haunting melody. But who could be singing in this cave, I’m all alone...

I feel a tear rolling down my cheek.

All alone...

Wait... I’m _not_ -

I struggle to fight my way through the shimmering fog that seems to be taking up space in my brain.

I’m _not_ alone...

I’m with - ?

Magpie?

_You have the torch. I don't have a torch, because you *never leave my side*._

_I try to see but bioluminescence is weird - it allows you to see the things that are being luminescent, but not much else. Try as I might, I can't get a perspective on how large the cave is - all I see are weird yellowish-green shapes everywhere. I keep thinking I see movement out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn, there's nothing._

_Except the shapes. The shapes *change* when I'm not looking. I swear they do. That thing that looks like a cock's comb wasn't there just now._

_And when I look away and look back - oh look, there's another smaller version underneath it that I just *know* wasn't there earlier._

_What's happening? Are they losing and gaining luminescence? But why doesn't that happen when I look at them?_

_I want to leave. I very much want to get out of this cave._

_Where *are* you?!_

_"SEBASTIAN!!!"_

I hear my name as though through a tunnel and I grow alert. I shake off the fog in my brain, and look around. What the fuck? Where am I - and where's _Jim?_

I'm in what looks like an alcove - different from where we first saw the glowing fungi. I vaguely remember being distracted by toadstools - I look down at the toadstools at my feet - a dreamy feeling starts to come over me, and I curse out loud.

Fuck this shit.

"JIM!! I shout. "Where are you!!"

_I hear your voice - an impossibly long way off._

_How big *is* this place?_

_"Sebastian! I'm still where you left me - where did you go?"_

“Around the corner?” I call back helplessly. “Or so I thought... I don’t know why but... I was looking for toadstools...” I stare suspiciously at the ones at my feet, feeling tempted to kick them. Instead, I start to inch forward. “Keep talking...” I call out. “I’m coming for you, Jim...”

_Toadstools._

_Wait - magic mushrooms. Spores in the air? Is that possible? Are we tripping our tits off in some innocent tourist attraction? Well - not that innocent, if they have hallucinogenic shrooms all over the place... you said it was a family outing??_

_I move towards the sound when I stop dead in my tracks._

_A - sprite or something is sitting on one of the luminescent shapes._

_It's outlined against the glow, so I can't see it very clearly, but it's *there*. The perspective is playing tricks on me - it seems anything from half a foot to nearly man-sized, depending on how I look. It's got pointy ears and a big grin. One knee is up, his arm leaning on it. An orb spins on his finger._

_I blink._

_He's still there._

_I blink harder._

_He's still there._

I take a step and listen carefully.

Nothing. Just that echoing sound of - _singing_.

You love to sing, but I seriously doubt you’d be singing at this moment.

In a cave. In darkness. Separated from me.

“Jim!!” I shout, taking cautious steps forward. “Keep talking so I can find you!”

_I open my mouth, but the faerie-thing puts its finger to its lips as it throws up the orb, which then spins on top of his head. He gets up, motions for me to follow._

_As in a trance, I watch my feet move as we walk to a darker corner of the cave._

Why - can’t I hear anything?

“JIM!!” I shout, and move more quickly, then stop. Which way did I come from?

I shine my torch in both directions.

 _Pick_ one, Moran...

With determination, I move towards where it sounded like your voice came from last...

_He enters a smaller space, that I could crawl through, if I wanted - well, the trousers are ruined anyway._

_Vaguely I hear someone shouting my name - Jim..._

_Is that my name? I thought it was... something else..._

_As I start bending down, a shadow shoots out of the cave and grabs me - I shout, shoot upright as it climbs me with sharp claws and roars into my face._

_I grab at it, pull it away, see a familiar shape - “Keith?”_

_Don’t be silly, of course it’s not Keith, it’s just another black cat -_

_why is there a black cat in this cave -_

_Wait - why am *I* in this cave?_

_Was I really about to enter that tiny hole?? It’s barely big enough for a cat!_

_Where did the cat go anyway?_

_And where’s my Tiger?_

_“Jim!!” I hear. It’s loud - you’re near._

_“Sebastian? I’m here.”_

_I move toward the sound - and finally I see the light of the torch._

_“Where *were* you??_

I look behind me - a narrow passageway, just around the corner like I had originally thought. But then - why couldn’t I find my way back to you?

“I just went - down there -“ I point towards the passageway, and realize I’m shivering. Am I fucking experiencing cognitive decline all of a sudden??

“But I don’t understand why I went there, and why I couldn’t find my way back...” I say, feeling strangely anxious. “And - why weren’t you calling back to me when I told you to?” I demand.

_"We get out of here. Now." I say._

_I do not like this place, we never should have come here, and I'm never ever letting you talk me into something like this ever again, Sebastian Moriarty._

“Fucking right,” I mutter. My eyes fall on the toadstool ring at my feet, and again I have the overwhelming desire to kick it... and then stomp it to smithereens.

But I also feel frozen, like I _can’t_. Like I _mustn’t._..

Anyway - like you said. We’re getting the fuck out of this place.

I point the torch towards the direction that will take us out. The glowing fungi seem to have created an image on the cave wall of a bird...? With a crown?

“Am I fucking hallucinating? Do you see that too?” I growl, feeling furious and - afraid. When do _I_ ever feel afraid? Only when it comes to something threatening you...

or... the thought of losing you.

“Let’s go,” I bark, not waiting for your answer. I shine the light towards the tunnel that brought us here, then grab your arm and move purposefully towards it.

_I don't know what you're pointing at - do I see *what* too? - but then your torch is pointing at the way out and I *definitely* see that. You're barking and manhandling me like you've only ever done before when I've been in danger - am I?_

_Did I really see a faerie? And a cat?? Did you?_

_I'm helped to my knees rather roughly - you do think I'm in danger. You want me out of here as quickly as possible - and yourself as well._

_That is unique. You are not afraid of anything, ever. What the fuck did you see?!_

_Anyway. We can talk about that later. When we're *outside*._

_You hand me the torch, and I crawl into the narrow corridor._

Once you’re safely on your way, I crawl behind you. I do _not_ look back.

Although I think I hear someone (?) going _tsk_ and then sighing melodramatically... The strange thing is that it reminds me of you...

But at this point, I don’t care what’s happening behind us - as long as I get you out safely, a bloody orchestra could start playing God Save the Queen.

I _swear_ I hear the stirrings of an orchestra start up just then, but it’s obviously the residual effects in my brain from - whatever the fuck was happening in that cave.

I curse loudly, and the music stops.

“Sebastian?” you call back, sounding tense.

“M’fine. Keep going,” I say tersely.

The darkness lets up a little. We’re nearly there.

And then I hear what sounds like echoes - of singing and giggling... a bird’s wings... and a growling - Tiger??

“ _Jesus_... Did you hear _that?”_ I demand.

_"I hear nothing! I see nothing! And once we're out of here I will never ever get into another *fucking* cave, you hear me Tiger!? Ohhh, magnificent stalagmites! Great day out for the whole family! If we don't get out of here *soon* I'm going to skin you alive with my pocket knife!"_

_This fucking tunnel is endless. And at one point, it *forks* - oh *of course*! Now what?_

_"Which way?!" I shout at you, because you're a fucking soldier and you know this kind of survival stuff. Or at least you should. What do I pay you for?!_

_Just your good looks, apparently, because a sheepish "No idea, Jim..." is all I get back. *Fuck!* What if we go the wrong way and get *deeper* into this hellhole?_

_I turn off the torch and peer into first one tunnel, then the other, to see if I see any light from either one, but both are pitch black. Cursing, I switch the torch back on, and shine down - they both look like they're leading just further into darkness._

_Just as I decide to take the right one, I think I hear something from the left - I point my torch and see movement - was that a black cat rushing down the end, or am I imagining things?_

_Regardless - if there was an animal there, hopefully it was on its way out..._

_I try not to think about what it was if *not* an animal, and where it might be going, as we crawl down the left-hand tunnel._

Shit, you’re getting angry...

It’s not exactly my fault, Jim... the guide book didn’t mention an alternate entrance to a cave full of glowing fungi with hallucinogenic spores!

How the _fuck_ is this tunnel forking?? It didn’t when we went in!!

I wait, trying not to panic as you chose which direction we’ll go - I know we’ll get out of this, I will _make sure we get out of this..._ but I hate seeing you so upset.

And I have to admit this weird cave is freaking me the fuck out...

You make your choice, and I follow as you crawl through the tunnel, muttering.

_I hear voices behind me. Now either you are whispering to yourself... singing to yourself... making music to yourself..._

_If I will myself not to hear it hard enough, will it go away?_

_I crawl as fast as I can, but this tunnel is *endless*. We must have taken the wrong one..._

_I keep crawling though, because the only other option is to get back. Just as I'm about to suggest that, as we're obviously halfway to Dublin, I see two bright eyes light up at the end of the tunnel, and I drop the torch and scream._

Too long, too long, I think to myself as we keep crawling. What the fuck was I thinking, bringing you in here??

Then you stop abruptly and the torch hits the ground. As you scream, soldier mode takes over -

“What is it?” I snap, reaching ahead to feel for the torch. My fingers wrap around it and I hold it up - and see nothing.

“What did you see, Jim??” I demand.

" _Nothing -"_

_\- just an animal - fuck's sake Jim - so high strung -_

_*It was Keith.*_

_Don't be stupid. What would Keith be doing here? What would any cat? Cats don't go into muddy caves. Smart things._

_*But I saw his face, his green eyes -*_

_It was a fecking - *fucking!* - rabbit or something. Just - get out of here._

_I crawl on ahead, and finally, finally, I think I can smell some fresh air -_

_when we get out, I have no idea where we are. I'm covered in mud; it's grey and drizzly, and I have a temper that would have killed you when I was half this age. As it is, I growl through my teeth. "Get me back to the hotel, *now*."_

Oh thank motherfucking _Christ_ I think as I feel the quality of the air shift.

I breathe in lungfuls of it as we approach the light. Outside of the tunnel, I spring up and help you. You seem disoriented and freaked out, but your anger is giving you the edge you need to keep it together. Good.

You snarl at me and I’m already calling for the car before you finish. The driver has been waiting close by, and will be here in two minutes.

I give you the news, and you react as expected.

“ _Really?_ Such _won_ derful news, Sebastian! Thank heavens the excursion has been saved from being an _utter fucking disaster.”_ you snap. “I think that calls for champagne, don’t you, _Sebastian?”_

“Jim,” I say carefully as you glare at me. “I’m _very sorry_ for what happened. But it _doesn’t make any bloody sense_. There’s only supposed to be _one_ entrance to that cave, and that’s where the driver was instructed to bring us. _None_ of that matches with-“

“If ye mention that fecking guide book one more time, ah’ll set de fecking ting on fire,” you shout, your Irish accent growing more pronounced, and then downright mocking. “A fun holiday outin’ in hell! Bring de kids! Crawl into a hole, get lost, and die in de mud! By all de saints, it’ll be glorrious!”

I sigh heavily, suddenly aware that my patience has been slowly unravelling. “Well, what do _you_ think happened, then? The Irish tourism industry has been wilfully trying to lure tourists to their horrible deaths? Or just planting hallucinogenic fungi as a fun little surprise?” I reply, sounding _dreadfully_ posh. I nearly groan as soon as it’s escaped from my lips. Way to help him keep his calm, Moran...

_"Wouldn't put it past them..." I scowl. I am so fucking sick of Ireland. Can't wait to fly out tomorrow. Can we go to the airport tonight?_

_The car shows up. I interrogate the driver, but he has no idea how we can have moved - there's not supposed to be a second entrance. The cave he brought us to is behind a shallow tunnel, and has some nice stalagmites, and he takes people from the hotel there all the time. They love it._

_You seem keen to go back to investigate, show the driver the entrance, have him confirm it's the same one he delivers people to - I glare at you. "Well, it's been a good twenty-five years, Sebastian. It's only fitting that it's in Ireland where I finally kill you."_

_You relent, and the driver brings us back to the hotel._

_"I'm going to have a shower and it's going to be long and it's going to be boiling. Then we're going to have dinner and sleep and go to the airport and never ever coming back to this cursed country of poets and madmen ever again," I growl as we walk to our rooms._

_When we walk in, Keith looks up. He's on the bed again. He must have his own secret entrance._

_I walk straight to the bathroom, refuse to see the muddy paw prints on the white bedspread._

Kitty’s back... good god, they’re tenacious.

That must be why you love them... along with being murderous, elegant and cute. They’re exactly you in animal form. Never understood why you didn’t like being called Kitten...

I stifle a chuckle. Now is _so_ not the time, Seb...

“Hello Kitty,” I greet him, and scratch him behind the ears. Then I follow you to the bathroom. “I notice _he_ doesn’t get shouted at for leaving dirt on things,” I say wryly.

_Don't, Sebastian -_

_I shoot you a *look* and you shut up. I am *this* close. You don't like it when I lose my temper - I don't like it when I lose my temper - the hotel isn't going to like it when I lose my temper._

Oh, shit. Time for some damage control, or we’ll end up in the bad place.

It’s been a while since I’ve seen you like this... _of course_ it would happen in Ireland.

I curse silently as I get undressed and join you in the shower. Why the fuck did I drag you to that cave? Yeah, I thought you’d find the stalagmites somewhat interesting. But so what?

Thinking back, I should have seen that it wasn’t a good idea - at so many points along the way - especially when we got to that tunnel where you had to crawl through mud. I could have laughed and suggested we visit a pub instead. But no, we had to go in. It’s like I’ve been _consumed_ by the idea. Why? A cave of all things??

A memory pops up - my dream.

I dreamt of losing you in a cave, and I still was fixated on taking you into a cave...

The weirdness in the cave that we experienced that doesn’t match up to the guidebook or what the driver talked about...

Things don’t add up...

“Sebastian...”

I realize I’m staring into space as I wash your hair. You’re looking at me strangely.

“Hm? Sorry,” I murmur, and guide you to the spray to rinse your hair.

_It's not going away._

_Fuck._

_I should have known. If anything could bring it on, it would be Ireland._

_I didn't think I'd grown out of it, but - it's been a while. Mostly I can control it, divert it when I feel it coming on._

_It was terrible when I was growing up - but then kids always get into fights. Then when I was older it was still bad, but I was enough of a genius to get the right people at the right time._

_Then when I had you - I don't like thinking about it. It came up all the time because I was so adamant that I did not have feelings for you - I unleashed on you so often - nearly killed you a few times -_

_After we got married, it was better - with the bunker open, and feelings closer to the surface, it came up regularly, but aimed less at you. I could usually find someone to let it out at._

_I hang my head, notice my hand is curled into a fist. I lean it against the wall._

_"It's here, Seb."_

_You know what I mean._

I hesitate with the conditioner bottle in hand, and look at you, worried.

Ohhh... we _have_ gone to the bad place.

At least you recognize it now as it's starting up... far less likely to be directed at me, if either of us catches it in time. Not that I couldn't stop you, but... I'm more likely let you take it out on me so you can get it out of your system. It's poison, and it has to come out or it will destroy - _everything_.

And it would certainly put a damper on our second honeymoon to be sporting bruises and cracked ribs. And for you to be consumed by guilt.

"Alright," I say carefully, and squirt conditioner into my palm. I put the bottle down and rub the scented liquid into your hair. A lovely woody, spicy scent wafts up, and you breathe it in deeply, closing your eyes. "So. Solutions: Find someone to take it out on who has it coming. Find a way to divert it, maybe destroying something. Or..." I pause meaningfully.

Your eyes open and I feel like I'm falling into their depths.

"You know what you might have to do," I say softly.

_*Or...*_

_I don't want to think about the *or...*_

_I did the *or* so often - you were strong, you were big, you were there, you could take it - hell, you even invited it sometimes, when you saw it was eating me, just to let me blow off steam -_

_Visions from decades ago come up despite me squeezing my eyes shut with all my might - you can't squeeze your eyes against a memory..._

_A man on a parking lot, throwing out his arms, inviting my fists..._

_A man kneeling in a car, taking off his shirt so it won't get blood on it..._

_A man with lips turning blue and still not pushing me off..._

_A man stronger than I am, capable of fighting me off, choosing instead to let me kill him if I need to..._

_I came so close... so fucking close..._

_... never again._

_The guilt only makes the black cloud more unbearable. Paradoxically it *still* makes me want to lash out at you - because you are making me feel guilty, so you must suffer - fuck I hate my mind -_

_"Get a car. We're going into the nearest town. No driver."_

_I push you out of the shower. I'll rinse my own hair._

Your eyes cloud over. Something is troubling you...

What are you deciding? Are you even capable of taking the time it needs to find someone else - or are you too far gone?

Suddenly you're speaking tersely to me, pushing me away from you.

I don't like it, but - it's for the best. Otherwise, it will be me that bears the brunt.

"Alright," I say quietly, grab a towel, and head to the bedroom to place the call, dry off, get dressed... while giving you the space you need.

I'm dressed and ready by the time you exit the bathroom, looking quietly murderous.

_One thought at a time. Don't let my mind roam - it will eat me. Fucking focus on what you're doing - rinse out conditioner. (It stinks and now my hair feels too oily.) Towel off. (The towel is too soft, I can't get properly dry.) Style my hair. (See? Too oily. I look ridiculous.) Do *not* smash the mirror. (I look a mess.) Get into the bedroom. (Sebastian is looking at me with those fucking worried eyes. I'm going to knock them shut.) Get dressed. (My skin is still half wet because of those fucking towels. My clothes are snatching. These trousers are uncomfortable.)_

_You are smart enough to stay out of my way. Keith is looking at me, puts his ears back, and jumps off the bed. I would never hurt a kitty... but he did make a fucking mess of the bed. Well. Not my problem._

_When I pull on my jacket (too narrow across the shoulders.) you look at your phone. "Car's here. Driver's going home, picking it up tomorrow."_

We move through the hotel, gliding across their plush carpets noiselessly, like a dark wave of malevolence. I’m just behind you, which might seem odd to anyone who knows we’re married - but we’ve slipped back into Moriarty and Moran mode, even though I haven’t borne the name in quite some time...

then we’re through the lobby, picking up the keys from the front desk, and off we head to the car park. I slide into the driver’s seat, and then realize you’ve got into the back - putting distance between us. I have to hand it to you, you’re being careful...

“Where to, Boss?” I say without even thinking about it.

_It's cold. "Turn on the heating."_

_We're in the middle of fucking nowhere. The nearest big town is Galway - at least an hour and a half away in this weather. No way we're going to make that. I'm a ticking time bomb._

_Clifden will have to do. It will have tourists - they disappear. Fall into the bay. Such a shame._

_"Clifden," I say, curtly. You get the car in gear and drive off._

_Around twenty minutes._

_I look outside, but the grey rainy gloom does little to distract me._

_I look at my phone, but the movement of the car makes me sick._

_Fifteen minutes._

I glance at you surreptitiously in the rear-view mirror.

Oh. Not good. You're near the point of blowing up. I may have to step in the way after all...

I really don't want this to happen on our anniversary trip.

And I _really_ don't want you to have to deal with the aftermath.

_I thought that was fucking behind us, Jim..._

My irritation dislodges itself from the place where I store such feelings until I can channel them into my work, or an aggressive workout with lots of manly grunting. You always love to watch those, and the showers afterwards are especially explicit.

But this is _not_ the place to release irritation - I clench my jaw, and my hands tighten on the wheel.

It was a creepy upsetting experience for me too, I think in annoyance.

 _Shut the fuck up, Moran_ , I growl at myself. Get him what he needs. Drive back to the hotel to sleep. Get the hell out of Ireland.

"Approaching Clifden now, Boss..." I say smoothly. "Pubs will still be open."

_Of course the fucking pubs will still be open. It's only fucking dinner time._

_Or - is it?_

_How long did we spend in that fucking cave? Was it getting dark when we came out?_

_Why is my *brain* not functioning?!_

_The black heat rises. Near boiling point._

_A man walking a dog outside town. No one in sight._

_He'll have to do._

_"Him," I say._

I glance at the guy.

"Dog might be inclined to defend his owner..." I say carefully. "Or cause a commotion..."

And are we just letting him run free - after?

Ugh.. after the mess of today, please don't make me have to 'deal with' a dog, Jim...

_“I wasn’t aware you were incapable of handling dogs these days, Sebastian,” I snap._

_“You have five minutes to get me someone, or I’m going to tear you, the guy, and the fucking dog to fucking shreds.”_

_And five minutes is generous..._

My mouth tightens. Fuck you, Jim. Funnily enough, traumatizing a dog is not something I want to remember from my holiday.

I'd rather take a beating myself, and I might have to.

You're welcome asshole, I think as I drive past the guy who's busy texting as the dog strains at the leash.

Two minutes pass...

I squint at movement up ahead.

"Jogger in obnoxious tracksuit and LED trainers spotted, Sir." I say, my tone neutral. "Will he do?"

_"Oh, I don't know - does he have a rabbit at home? An elderly goldfish he's responsible for?"_

“I could ask...” I purr softly.

Your eyes are looking like they could devour anything that they look at.

I hide a smirk. Nothing like a spot of danger to bring the tiger out...

I park the car.

“Where do you want him?” I say cheerfully. I’m starting to look forward to this...

_"We passed a run-down barn a mile back. Get him in there."_

I nod, and watch the jogger approach. Looks like a right bellend. Perfect.

I open the door, and call out in a pronounced Irish accent, “Seamus? Is dat you?”

The jogger slows down, looking confused. “My name’s Sean...”

“Sean, that’s right... well as I live and breathe,” I walk towards him with outstretched arms and a huge grin. “How are yeh, yeh chancer?”

He jogs on the spot, looking annoyed and perplexed. “Where do you think you know me from? Because yeh don’t look fecking familiar to me.”

“That weekend in Dublin from about five years ago? The weddin’ and punch-up in the coat check? The hotel suite with the bridesmaids? And after the bridesmaids left?” I give him a lascivious smile.

“Feck no!” he protests. “It wasn’t me, for feck’s sake...“

“Yeh don’t remember, after you held me until dawn? Now that hurts my feelins, Sean...” I pout, and punch him.

He’s out cold, and I drag him to the car and throw him in the boot. Then I tie his hands behind his back, and gag him.

I look around, still no one about. I slide into the driver’s seat, and slam the door.

“Next stop... the barn,” I call out, rev up the engine and take off down the road. It feels so fucking good to be on a mission...

_Stop having a fucking *chat* with him, Sebastian..._

_A punch. *Finally.* I should have done that myself... but it is satisfying._

_Bloke in the boot, Tiger in the driving seat, hell itself in the back seat._

_We arrive at the barn. There's a door, but it looks rotten, so I tell you to bash it in. I head to the boot of the car, open it, to find our jogger clasping the tyre iron. What he was going to do with that with his hands bound, I don't know, but it's good to see he has some fight in him, though no brains. I shove my gun against his head, growl "Not a fucking wrong move," and drag him out, through the door that you managed to open without bashing, well done Sebastian, into the barn, where I cut off the ties from his hands and undo the gag. He's staring at us. "What..."_

_I let go._

_Finally._

_Fists flying, the black fire roaring up, consuming me, but with every punch, every connect, every crack, some of it is released._

_I find myself on my knees, out of breath, my arms trembling with exhaustion, the black rage gone, poured into the fluorescent figure beside me, his limbs and head in unnatural positions, the receptacle of my rage at the country of my birth._

_We'll have to get rid of the body - no problem, the sea is nearby. There's blood everywhere, but it will be ages before it's discovered - this place is dilapidated, and with you managing to open the door without bashing it no one will realize anyone's been here. There are sections of roof missing; if we break out a bit above here the rain will wash most of it away._

_You hand me wet wipes and a bag with a change of clothes. I undress, clean myself up carefully, then get dressed in the clean clothes while you hoist the body onto your shoulder and head to the sea. When you come back, you remove a roof panel, clean yourself, and get changed._

_Our bloody clothes are stuffed into a bin liner in a holdall, and we get back into the car, drive back to the hotel._

_I'm exhausted and empty._

_I'm grateful you don't talk._

I watch as you do your thing, fists and feet flying in a fury... god, it’s been a while since you’ve let loose like this... it’s rare for you to be so hands-on in the business side of things unless you _really_ have it out for someone.

It’s amazing to see what damage you can do, even in your sixties. The jogger never stood a chance...

I leave you alone to take another shower; you’re not talkative and you could probably use some time to process this.

I sit in bed with a book, but I find myself reading the same paragraph over and over again.

Eventually you come out in a towel, your face shuttered.

I look at you over the edge of my book and return to fake-reading.

_You were on page 278 when you put the book down last night, Sebastian..._

_"All yours," I gesture at the shower._

My shower is quick, perfunctory, military-style - in, out, dry off.

I don’t want to leave you on your own for too long... I need to know you’re coming back...

You’re under the sheets when I return, so no need to get dressed.

“Are you hungry?” I murmur, sitting on the bed in my towel. “If not, I’ll order dinner and I can heat it up for you later...”

_Oh yes - food. We didn't have dinner._

_I shake my head._

_I crawl closer to you. You're nice and warm. I tried to get warm under the shower, but the emptiness is hard to warm up._

Dinner later... I lie down next to you, throw off my towel, slide under the covers.

Skin to skin comfort is what you need...

I bury my face in your neck and breathe you in.

_Oh Sebastian..._

_So many memories come bashing in that I don't want to see; and I can't get rid of them._

_I just want Sebastian..._

_"Say it."_

My mind goes blank.

Shit. What do I normally say? It’s been so long...

“I love you,” I breathe into your neck. “You’re safe with your Sebastian... In the morning we’ll leave, and we can enjoy our holiday again...”

_You said it._

_You still love me._

_Despite everything I've done, despite what I am, despite all the things I've put you through... against all better judgement and survival instincts, you love me... you want to keep me safe, you'll do anything I tell you to, without asking..._

_Oh Sebastian..._

_"I'm sorry," I mumble against your skin. "Shouldn't have come to Ireland. It's a stupid place..."_

“No, _I’m_ sorry, Jim... it was a bad idea to drag you there in the first place. I know how you feel about nature. And then...” I stop, troubled.

No point in crossing the same ground twice. Being in the cave was a total clusterfuck. Who cares _why_ it happened... as long as we’re both safe.

 _I_ care, the security expert in me protests. What if it happens again!!

But somehow... I know this to be an Ireland thing, even though it doesn’t make _any fucking sense_. So it won’t be an issue when we leave... and I can put this to rest and not trouble you about it anymore. You’ve been through enough...

“Next time I try to convince you to spend the day in nature... feel free to slap me,” I say, kissing your neck.

“Except Mexico,” I murmur against your skin. “Mexico has always been good to us. I can’t wait to be back, Kitten...”

_"Me neither," I agree, not arguing with the 'Kitten'. I do feel like a kitten, small and weak and vulnerable, crawling up to its mum for some warmth and comfort. Mexico will be lovely and sunny and warm... fuck me and my ideas of showing Ireland who's boss. I *will* show Ireland who's boss - by ignoring it completely from now on. It's not getting any of the glory that is Jim Moriarty ever again._

_I fall into an uneasy sleep, half wake when you sneak out of bed to have some food. You ask if I want anything, but I don't, just you back. I can't sleep until I feel you crawl under the covers again, plaster myself against you, trying to get every bit of body heat you have to offer, which is a lot. Still, it takes a long time of you holding me and breathing into my neck for me to get warm._

_When I wake, it's just after dawn, the grey light behind the curtains just starting to make the contours of the room visible. I feel you, tense against my back - you heard it too._

_What was it? What woke us?_

_I hear an almighty crash, a growling yowl, and a squawking chattering sound. We both shoot upright, you grab for your gun - I don't know what you're going to do with it; I doubt any assassins would announce their arrival in this manner. I switch on the lamp and in the beam of light falling into the sitting room I see a blur of black and white, fur and feathers - "Keith!" I exclaim, jumping out of bed, running through the door. The window is open, and the largest magpie I've ever seen is locked in close combat with a Keith who is a ball of furious fur, nails, and teeth. The magpie's claws are raking at him._

_"Piss off! Leave him alone!" I shout, not sure at who - did Keith catch the magpie and drag it in here, or did it fly inside and attack the cat?_

_I'm very aware I'm naked and there are a lot of sharp bits flying around._

One moment I’m deep in dreamland... the next I’m suddenly awake. And the next moment I’m flying from the bed amidst a cacophony of noise, grabbing my gun. What the fuck will I be shooting at?? It sounds like -

The light comes on and my mouth drops open at the sight of a bird fighting with a - Keith??

You go running at them, shouting.

“What the _fuck_ -“ I exclaim, following you. I stand in the doorway, staring at the sight of a bird and a cat locked in a struggle, and you trying to shoo the bird away - a magpie??

“How did it get in here??” I demand.

“How the fuck would I know? Do something!” you shout at me.

What am I supposed to do? Shoot at the ceiling?? I put my gun down and look around - then I grab a newspaper from the table, and wave it at both of them. The magpie explodes into the air, feathers flapping. Keith springs back and we all watch as the magpie circles the room. Keith growls and leaps up onto the table... the magpie swoops down, nearly clipping Keith - who jumps straight up in the air, hissing.

I flap the newspaper again at the magpie, who then swoops down at me.

“Alright, _enough!”_ I roar. “All of you that aren’t guests of the hotel, time to fly away home!!”

_My brave knight armed with the Sunday Times enters the fray, but the two combatants hardly pay him any attention. They appear to be absolutely dead set at attacking each other - why? Since when do cats and corvids fight? Cats don't catch magpies, they're way too big - and magpies don't fly into rooms to assault cats._

_Also - why is the window open? It's cold outside - I'm sure I didn't open it. Did you, to get rid of the smell of dinner? It's not like you to leave a window open when you go to bed though. You like your fresh air, but this window is close enough to the ground for someone to be able to climb in._

_You're lashing the newspaper, but the magpie just flaps out of your reach to immediately swoop back at Keith, who tries to jump at it with claws out and without regard for the sharp flashing black beak. I've grabbed a cushion and am trying to bat at them as well, with equally little result, when my eye is caught by the woollen throw on the sofa - I pull it off, hold it out to you. You grab it, and at the next downswoop of the magpie, manage to scoop him (or her, I wouldn't know how to tell) up in it, rush the madly thrashing and squawking bundle to the window and shake it out. A furious bird flies out, and you let go of the throw, quickly closing the window. Just in time by the look of it - the bird dives towards it, angrily chattering, looking for a way in. I run into the bedroom, but the windows there are shut, as well as in the kitchenette. Keith is standing on the table, his fur on end, his ears flat, growling at the window._

After a flurry of activity, the magpie is safely outside. I watch bemused as it continues to try to get in. You’re running to make sure the other windows are closed... and Keith appears to be _standing guard_.

“Did that just happen, Jim? Or am I still dreaming?” I call out to you, watching the magpie dart about looking _furious_. “Seriously, what the fuck??”

_"Yes. One big nightmare," I shake my head. "Keith, are you alright? What the fuck happened?" I approach him, but he's still growling and scowling at the window, and I don't know if he'll explode if I touch him. He looks alright - but it's hard to see injuries on a black cat. The magpie is still chattering angrily outside._

_That's it. I've had more than enough of this mad country._

_"Can we leave now, Seb? Go to the airport? Sit in the first-class lounge till our flight leaves?"_

_I realize I'm sounding like a child pleading with his parent to be allowed to leave the house._

I’m about to try to convince you that cooling our heels here for a few hours will be far more comfortable...when I see Keith staring at me intently. Between that and how freaked out you sound, I feel my resolve slipping away.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “We can leave now. I’ll let the front desk know we’re checking out, and we can pack up.”

Keith has returned to looking out the window vigilantly.

“Good kitty,” I murmur. I run my hand over his furry head, and plant a kiss between his ears.

_Normally I am very careful about packing - avoiding creases, making sure everything is where it's supposed to be. Not now. I chuck everything into suitcases and bags while you check out and order a car._

_Keith is still sitting on the table, staring intently outside, but the magpie appears to be gone. I look at him, scratch his neck._

_"I don't know if you helped us, catpuss... or if I'm mad. But - you're the only bloody good thing about Ireland, you know that? I'll give reception a tip and tell them to buy you extra special treats."_

_He looks up at me, narrows his eyes, as if he's telling me everything will be alright. I stroke him, surreptitiously checking him for any sore spots or injuries, but he appears to be alright. Good. I don't like kitties getting hurt._

_You come up to tell me the car's coming, and two men carry our suitcases downstairs. I leave an envelope at reception, telling them half is for them, if they make sure that the other half is spent on whatever Keith likes best. The lady laughs. "Our boy is a charmer, isn't he?"_

_"He sure is..." I smile back._

_I don't see any magpies as the suitcases are carried to the car and you hold open the door for me._

In the car, you’re quiet - staring out the window.

After all that transpired, I imagine this will be the last time you see Ireland. Probably for the best...

I take your hand in mine.

“Good riddance?” I ask lightly. I squeeze your hand and you squeeze back.

_"Fuck yes..." I sigh._

_I don't trust it. The mist and menacing greenness are still closing up around the car. I can see things out of the corner of my eye, but if I look straight at them they're gone. I think I see impossibly tall shapes loping along with the car, grey birds swooping out of the mists ready to break the windows; I hear voices just beyond the edge of hearing, singing mad lullabies._

_I dare not close my eyes, or they will not disappear..._

_It's a long drive to Dublin, and I am tense for every fucking second of it._

I keep hearing something deeply disturbing... mocking laughter and the occasional tsk, muffled and echoing like it's coming from... a cave.

What the fuck kind of fungi were those?? I'm surprised you don't want to arrange to have them harvested for any crime lords you do consultations for who deal with illicit substances - they'd make a killing. But clearly you want nothing to do with Ireland even if it will bring a profit...

I'm sorely tempted to ask you if you're feeling any residual effects, but it's hard to tell if you're furious because you are, or just by virtue of still being here...

anyway, I know when to give you space for your moods. I wouldn't have lasted long if I hadn't...

Eventually we arrive at the airport and we're whisked off through private hallways until we arrive in the VIP lounge, having bypassed security as always. I order us both a drink, and hand you a rum and coke, feeling the tension release somewhat.

_Airports are kind of international... similar the world over; with first-class lounges in tasteful understated modern design, subtle spotlights on inoffensive art, comfortable sofas, pleasant nibbles with plentiful alcohol. I find my stomach unknotting and am getting hungry, so I order an omelette from a blissfully Italian server. Sit with my back to the window and I could be anywhere in the world, Dubai or Hong Kong or Mexico..._

_Next stop, New York. Civilized place. Lovely museums._

_"Tiger?" I ask. "Mmm?" you respond from over your pint, because airport time means it's beer o'clock whatever the hour. "I am not going to set foot on anything that isn't a floor or pavement for the next week. If you suggest going to so much as Central Park, I will string you up by your testicles. Is that clear?"_

“Crystal clear... I’ll cancel the horse-drawn carriage ride,“ I say, grinning into my beer.

At your silence, I glance up.

Oh. Not jokes times yet...

I clear my throat. “Testicles and string,” I murmur. “Understood, Jim...”

_Our flight is not till the afternoon. I could probably get us on an earlier one, but it's a hassle to arrange avoiding security, so we decide to just wait it out._

_There's a shower, and I use it, the water scaldingly hot to rinse away the last vestiges of misty green insanity._

_Scrubbed clean, in fresh clothes, well-fed, with conversation around us in all languages and accents, I feel myself slowly melting away from Ireland. We eat and drink and when it's time to board the plane I'm pleased to see we're going through a tube, so I don't even have to walk through Irish air any more._

_The moment the plane lifts off, I give the place the finger. "To never returning," I say to you, and raise my champagne._

I clink your glass. "Fucking right," I mutter.

I never had an issue with Ireland except that it fucked you over, and made you a stormy wreck for the longest time... even in your later years, you were always on edge when you visited for business.

But this time - it pulled me in along for the ride. That was a mindfuck, and I know I've been chalking it up to hallucinogenic fungal spores, but...

well, what else could it be?

Soberly I think of the fight between the magpie and the cat the next morning.

"Jim..." I say cautiously. "Whatever happened in the cave... we didn't both hallucinate this morning, right? There was a fight between a cat and a magpie in our hotel room? How do you explain that? Or do we just leave it at 'Fuck you, Ireland' and forget about it?"

_I sigh._

_I don't know. And I *hate* not knowing shit._

_Almost as much as I hate thinking about supernatural shit._

_"I may be a genius, but..." I gesture at the country disappearing under the clouds._

_"None of it makes sense. *None* of it. That cave shouldn't have been there. There is no way so many bioluminescent fungi could live in one cave. It's spring - how are there hallucinogenic mushrooms about? Since when does Ireland or *anywhere* have mushrooms that are so hallucinogenic that just being in their vicinity causes one to start tripping? Cats and corvids don't fight. The most plausible explanation is that someone drugged our fucking breakfast and we were hallucinating for 24 hours, but that is impossible as well."_

_I notice my mood getting darker again just talking about it._

_"So - yes. 'Fuck you, Ireland,' and forget about it. We're never going back. It can sink in the sea for all I care. Unless you have a very clever explanation."_

My eyes widen. _Me?_ How could _I_ possibly?

“I do not,” I say grimly. “Just - it’s strange that we both had restless sleep the night before, and I dreamed of _losing you in a cave_... and then somehow I forgot the dream and took you to a cave anyway? That you didn’t want to go to? And you let yourself be taken there?”

I shake my head. “No. Any explanations I could come up with would be utterly mad.

‘Fuck you Ireland’, indeed.“

I clink your glass, and we both drink - you a small sip, while I empty the glass down my throat.

We look at each other, troubled - and I pick up the flight magazine to see what films are being offered, while trying not to look at you again.

_"Any film, as long as it's urban realism," I sigh. You settle on a mediocre crime drama, and we watch it together - we always watch in-flight films together, it's one of our things. As is making fun of the terrible decisions the characters make - "Stop bashing against the door, you idiot! It's *metal* - you're just breaking your shoulder!" - "No, let me run through this hail of bullets! It's alright, I'm the protagonist, it gives me magical armour!"_

_After three films and a goodly number of glasses of champagne, I feel a lot better._


	7. Smooth Criminal

When the third film has finished, you turn to me.

“Well that was a _fine_ film, Tiger... a shoo-in for several shiny meaningless awards, wouldn’t you say...?” Your smile is slightly off-centre. Aww... you’re a little sloshed, aren’t you baby?

I grin at you. “Definitely. A real contender for Most Mediocre Film. Best Death-Defying Dash through gunfire. Best Outrunning a Fiery Inferno...”

“Best Love Interest Who’s Just Plucky Enough to Not Seem Like a Stereotype... but Actually Is... (Look, We Tried!),” you say with a chagrined expression.

I laugh out loud at that, and hit the button to order more champagne. And well, we should probably eat something too or I’ll be carrying you off this plane. This leg of the trip is off to a smashing start. I’m so looking forward to New York - it should be nice and grounding after the oh-so-whimsical mindfuck of Ireland.

The flight attendant appears next to me as though from thin air. “Yes, Sir?” she says with a smile, leaning down next to my seat. “Can I get you anything else?”

“More champagne, if you would be so kind. And might we have some light nibbles? Sandwiches, if you have them? And some...”

“Crisps,” you stage-whisper into my ear.

“Oh I don’t know... what else?” I scratch my head theatrically, and you nudge me.

“Crisps!” you say insistently.

The flight attendant looks like she’s struggling not to laugh.

“Perhaps some - hmm, what am I in the mood for...“ I muse, and you nudge me harder. I’m trying desperately not to burst out laughing and end the game, but the champagne has definitely got hold of me.

“Might I suggest some crisps?” the flight attendant says, her lips twitching.

“Perfect! They’re lovely this time of year,” I say cheerfully.

“Yes, the potatoes were just harvested this morning, Sir...” she says, her Irish lilt growing more pronounced. “I’ll alert the kitchen staff to start peelin’...” With a wink, she’s off and I’m chuckling into what’s left of my champagne.

_We watch another film while snacking on sandwiches and crisps. This champagne goes down very easily... I'm decidedly light-headed when we land, and it's only half past five._

_A car is waiting for us, and we enter giggling, singing silly songs underway to the hotel, making an especially cool new rendition of 'Smooth Criminal' that has both of us in stitches. When we arrive at the penthouse suite of The James, I fall onto the bed._

_"I believe I'm a tiny bit tiddly, Sebbie..." I confess._

“Oh _no_ ,” I exclaim, falling down next to you and throwing my leg over you. “This has never happened before!”

I pull you against me and give you a noisy kiss on the forehead. “Are you going to be able to get into the shower or do we just fall asleep in a drunken heap?”

_"Carry me to the shower," I decree, then collapse into a heap of giggles when you try to. "Noooo, Sebastian, you're too old for that! Your knee! Nooo, you're drunk, you're going to drop me! Se*bas*tiaaaannn!! Put me down! Unhand me, you barbarian!"_

“Don’t ‘you’re too old’ _me_ , my dear...” I say, carrying you easily across the room.

Despite your swatting and drunken lamentations, which make me laugh so hard I nearly _do_ drop you, I get you to the bathroom in one piece. When we walk through the door, I stop and take in the setup. A spacious rain-shower, just like you love - with two shower heads, so I can keep from getting scalded. This hotel should be called the Tiger… There’s also a soaking tub, which I fully intend to try before we leave.

“Thank god we’ll have a view of the city when we have a bath. Otherwise, what would we look at? We’ll be bored to _death_ ,” I say with a wink as I lower you to the floor.

_I wave at New York stretched out before us. Buildings as far as the eye can see... what sheer bliss._

_"When we're sober, we should fuck in front of the window," I decide. "But for now, we can just let them enjoy me flopping on this here chair, and you washing me." I throw the towels off the little stool in the shower and plonk down on it._

“How handy that The James has seen to your needs, present and future,” I grin. “When we’re sober, you say?” You raise an eyebrow, and I grin and wash you until you’re practically purring.

A quick wash for me, and soon we’re both dry and nestled in luxurious bathrobes.

You flop back onto the bed, sighing contentedly.

“What’s it to be tonight? Room service? Or do you want to show your gorgeous face in the restaurant downstairs? And don’t think I didn’t notice this hotel has a bar called Jimmy...” I grin. “Couldn’t resist, could you?”

_"Who can resist a hotel *and* a bar named after oneself?" I reply as I spread arms and legs on the big bed._

_"I'm not fit for public consumption - have you seen my *hair*?" I exclaim, patting at a tuft stubbornly sticking up. "Besides, this robe is too comfy... but I bet they're going to whinge if we show up to the restaurant like this. Surely if a hotel provides clothes, they'd be happy for you to wear them in said hotel... but no. Get us some room service - I want chips. And eh - steak. And chocolate pancakes. With cream!"_

I wince at the thought - I hope you’ll be alright in the morning, otherwise I’ll have to coerce you into drinking my hangover special. Hungover Jim is more of a handful than most other Jims.

I place the order with room service, with the same for myself, plus a beer, minus the bloody pancakes and cream.

“Twenty minutes, babe...” I call to the still-drunk Jim splayed out on the bed.

“Twenty minutes?!” you exclaim. “Did you tell them you have a gun?”

“I did not,” I say cheerfully. “I could call back and inform them, but then something else might arrive in twenty minutes.”

“We haven’t had a shootout on this trip,” you muse, rising up on your elbow.

“Remiss of us,” I laugh. “But then we won’t have time to get drunk and disorderly at Jimmy as we’re escaping... and wouldn’t that be a travesty...” I say, flopping down next to you.

_"You're sweet," I inform you, in case you've forgotten._

_You turn over to me and your eyes are so beautiful and blue in this white suite, and your smile so soft and dear... awww._

_"You're also very pretty... and I love you so much. Have I told you that I love you today? I must tell you every day, Sebastian. We must never forget. It's important."_

“You did not...” I murmur. “But it’s lovely to hear every day. I love you more than life, you know... and you’re always the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen...”

_"I know you love me more than life... and you must not, Sebastian." I try to look at your face, but it's going blurry. "You must always stay alive. Always." I snuggle up to you, hold you close._

“I will, Boss,” I whisper, seeing your teary eyes and pulling your head against my chest. “But just so you know I’ve mastered the art of loving you more than life _and_ staying alive. And I’ll continue to do so. Why on earth would I ever leave your side, Kitten?”

_"See, there you go again. Playing with the doors of the mortuary, inviting Death himself to swoop down upon you like a peregrine," I smile through my tears. "I'm sorry for every time I nearly killed you, Sebbie. Don't let me do it again."_

“You have nothing to apologize for, my darling... I walked on the razor’s edge of life and death long before I met you. And you more than made up for all the brushes with death by giving me a life I could never have imagined,” I say brushing a tear from your cheek with my thumb.

“Clearly Death and I have reached some kind of understanding,” I murmur. “I still buy booze and flowers for Santa Muerte... I guess the Skinny Girl likes me being on this plane of existence. Maybe she finds me pretty, too,” I say with a wink.

_"Yes! We must go to the temple. It will be great seeing Adonia again," I exclaim. Adonia is still running the Santa Muerte shrine, and we visit every time we are in Mexico. I keep offering to buy her and her army of cats a bigger apartment, but she is adamant at keeping the shrine where it is, and she doesn't want to move away from it. She tells us to spend our money on la Flaca, not her._

_"Of course she finds you pretty. Everyone finds you pretty. That's because you are pretty. But they can't touch you... because you're mine." I poke my finger in your chest._

“Don’t worry, that message comes through loud and clear...” I say wryly. “Between the two of us, the look of imminent death for anyone whose gaze lingers too long usually does the trick. And when it doesn’t...” I shrug with a lazy smile. “They never get very far with their agenda, do they? Funny that...”

_“It’s because I have a gun as well,” I nod sagely. “For when looks don’t work.”_

_There’s a knock on the door. “Food!” I perk up._

“Yes, my darling... whatever you want, you get.” I drop a kiss on your forehead, then get up to let in room service.

Plates of aromatic food are deftly arranged on the table, and I slip some money to the server before sending him on his way.

“Dinner is served!” I say pulling out a chair. “Unless Sir prefers to eat in bed?”

_"No, no chip crumbs in bed... I'll come to the table," I say bravely, then manoeuvre myself to the edge of the king-size bed, let my legs slide off, and walk to the dining section. Why do they make these penthouses so big?_

_I flump down in a chair, look at the chips and beef. Looks delicious._

_I add a generous amount of ketchup - you love ketchup on your chips as much as I do, so you ordered a full bottle along with the food. Smart Tiger._

_"Get me a rum and coke?" I ask. If it sounds like a question it's not an order, right? It's polite, right?_

I watch you rise and walk unsteadily to the table before falling into it. I have to stop myself from hurrying to your aid, but you’re a grown man after all... _and_ you don’t like it when I act like a mother hen when you’re not at your prime... _and_ if you fall onto the very plush carpeting, I’m sure you’d be fine.

Really? Rum and coke, Jim? After all that champagne?

I go to the bar, make you a rum and coke, with not too much rum, and bring you the glass.

You lift it up, and a little sloshes over the side. Then you sip with obvious pleasure before you plonk it on the table.

I smile, shaking my head. “What are we celebrating? Finally being across the pond? We’re that much closer to Casa Guarida del Tigre...” I say fondly, and clink my bottle of beer to your glass.

_"Yes! Our home away from home - or really, our first home..." I say wistfully. "The apartment I blew up was never really our home. It was - a place where I hid in my bunker in. I'm so glad we bought it, Tiger. To Casa Guarida del Tigre!" I raise my glass, look surprised when Newton's first law of motion manifests itself in coke continuing to travel upwards when I stop moving the glass, and then sloshing onto the tablecloth. Oh. Well. Why do they insist on white table cloths anyway..._

_I attack my steak and chips with gusto. I like how they do chips in the US. Nice and crunchy._

_As usual, your chips look nicer, so I keep stealing them, unfortunately spilling ketchup on the cloth - oh dear. They're going to love us..._

I watch you in amusement as you devour your food and mine, and get ketchup and your drink all over the tablecloth.

Awww... you're so cute. Before you realized you loved me, oh so long ago, it was exceedingly rare to see you let go of your superhuman control.

Since we declared our love for each other, it happens far more frequently. But seeing you let go and be _silly_ \- is another thing entirely. Every time it happens, I'm aware I've been granted a gift like seeing a mythic creature. Seeing Jim Moriarty all adorable and ridiculous. A true treasure.

When you push your plate away, I make a show of pulling mine closer. "Leave me _some_ chips, kind Sir - I beg you. After all, you have a lovely stack of chocolate pancakes all to yourself. And don't forget the cream..." I swipe a dollop of said cream, and boop your nose. Your mouth drops open and I laugh in delight.

_Nooooo Tiger, no food fights... we're in a fully white hotel room. I'm not staying in a stained room. *Especially* with chocolate..._

_I *humph* and turn away from you, my arm protectively around my pancakes and cream, wiping my nose on a napkin, stealthily devouring my dessert._

_Unfortunately chocolate is runny and devious, and ends up on my leg and my robe._

_"Noooo - Tiger! Look what you made me do!"_

“ _I_ made you do it?” I echo. “Just like I decorated the tablecloth with wine and ketchup? God... you can’t take a Tiger anywhere...” I say cheerfully, and steal a forkful of pancake.

_I look at you aghast._

_"You would dare rob an old man of his sweet treat?!" I exclaim indignantly. "You fiend!" A finger is dipped in chocolate and ends up near your nose, because you move. Then you grab me and nuzzle me close, me yelping and trying to get free, knocking over my drink. In a panic, I grab my pancakes to save them, but again Newton's first law thwarts me, and they end up on the floor. Chocolate is splattered everywhere, even on the walls._

I stare open-mouthed at the walls and the plushly carpeted floor, now wildly decorated with chocolate and wet with the rum and coke dripping from the table. “Oh no,” I manage to get out before I start to laugh uproariously.

_I look around._

_"Not funny Tiger! That carpet is hand-knotted wool deep shag - impossible to clean -"_

_You laugh even harder at the words 'deep shag' - really, how old are you?_

_I lift the one pancake that's not got woolly strands in it because it landed on two others, and eat it, sitting on the floor._

_"I guess we need another shower, or we're going to ruin the bed as well. I hope they can fix it all tomorrow - I like this place,” I sigh, looking out over the millions of lights of New York City._

_"I wonder how Keith is doing..." I ponder. "I hope he's not missing us - and that that magpie didn't come back. Should we have taken him here? They're pet-friendly, you know."_

I’m about to make a joke about a deep shag and ruining the bed, when you start talking about... bringing Keith to New York??

“Jim, he has the staff fully trained to see to his every need... I’m sure he’s fine. If you still miss him when we’re ready to go home, we can arrange to ship him express,” I joke.

You seem to consider it, your eyes growing bright.

Quick. Deflect.

“But right now it’s just you and me, Jim... drunk in a hotel room. What do you say we have that second shower... and _then_ ruin the bed?” I say with a smirk.

_Ohhhh, take Keithy home!? Hypatia is bound to *love* him -_

_memories come flooding in of the time we tried to introduce a new cat into the household - how *furious* she was - we had to take him back; fortunately we had said we might not be able to keep him -_

_\- but Keithy is different... surely she'll see that?_

_What? Oh - drunk randy Tiger. What can we do with one of those?_

_Well, first have that shower. I've got chocolate and coke on me..._

_When we're in the shower, I remember- "Tiger! You still owe me a blow job - and it *better* be a *more* than epic one, after dragging me into that disastrous cave..."_

“Oh... _yes_ ,” I purr. “It will be epic indeed... so let me wait until I get your beautiful arse into that beautiful bed... and I’ll make you forget that manky cave ever existed...” I say with a growl, and capture your lips with mine.

_Good idea. Don't want you kneeling down on tile floors all the time with your knee._

_You towel me off and we walk into the bedroom, our nudity on display for all of New York, should it have a telescope trained on this place. I shake my head as I look at the mess in the dining room - we're worse than a pair of toddlers..._

_Then I elegantly flop onto the bed, smiling at my beautiful husband, all three of him. I blink and he's reduced to two. Good enough._

I follow you across the living room and into the bedroom... every inch the Tiger on the hunt... when you lay yourself out on the bed, like a feast, my eyes devour you as I approach...

I crawl over you, dropping my hands on either side of your head...

"Mmm... I always had a taste for my drunk boss..." I purr. "Remember the safe house in Bucharest?" I dip my head down and run my tongue over your neck.

_"Ohhh, I don't know... why don't you remind me..." I smile, lie down luxuriatingly on the pillows._

That smile... those slightly glassy eyes... god, how it takes me back...

"You don't remember?" I lick your earlobe delicately. My tongue moves back down your neck, along your chest and circles your nipple. "How I finally stopped waiting for you to always make the first move..." I murmur, and give it a quick nip. You gasp, and your hands fly to my back. "And just... took what I wanted..." I whisper, giving it another lick before moving down your abs and towards your pelvis.

_Oh, yes, I remember alright, my Tiger. That night is burned into my hard drive._

_How we got drunk because there was nothing to do but wait and nothing to drink but vodka and some dreadful Romanian spirit called țuică._

_How we cuddled up close together in bed because it was cold and I just couldn't get warm despite all the blankets._

_How you started rubbing me which you assured me was a soldiers' technique to warm me up... and how you started rubbing all kinds of places that I'm *definitely* sure were *not* in the SAS manual... your body all around me in the darkness, your hot breath in my neck..._

_But I was cold, and drunk, and didn't want to do the usual thing where I ordered you around, which was the only way I knew to have sex..._

_And then your hot breath was moving... and a hot tongue joined it, on my nipples, on my belly, and finally lips and a hand on my cock, both grasping firmly, possessively, and my traitorous cock was so happy to be possessed..._

_and you handled me like meat, knowing me so well, knowing exactly what to do to make me groan, and I definitely did not whimper, and I was nowhere close to begging, as you kept taking me to the edge and holding me there, until I exploded in an orgasm that shattered the walls of the safehouse, or must have done, surely..._

_I shiver, both at the memory and at the delicious journey your mouth is making._

“Does that silence mean you’re thinking about it...?” I glance up and grin at the dreamy, heated look on your face. “One of my hottest memories of you... in the early days. You were just so... mmh, uncharacteristically pliable,” I groan, and drop kisses along your pelvis. My tongue swirls over your hipbones, making your breath hitch and your body jerk.

“God, the sounds I made you make that night...” I whisper, my breath hot on your cock. I let my tongue drag over your shaft achingly slow, revelling in the full-body shiver that overtakes you.

_Hmmm... sounds. Yes. Well. I *tried* not to make too many sounds... and back then you certainly would not ever dare *mention* me making any sounds, if you knew what was good for you... but you looked *awfully* smug that next day. Of course I took my revenge on you - couldn't have you think you could get away with things like that - but it was one more feather in your cap, one more crack in the thick granite walls around me..._

_"You'll find me exceedingly pliable tonight," I assure you. Just not literally, after a flight - damn, I forgot to do my yoga - oh well, I'll do it in the morning. You're supposed to be all supple and boneless when you're drunk anyway, aren't you?_

_Oh god - your hot breath, your tongue... I close my eyes, the fuller to be able to concentrate on the sensations down below._

I tease you with my lips and tongue for a bit, grasping your arse possessively. Soon you’re moaning and pulling my head by the hair to signal it’s time to get to work.

Fuck... yes... Sir...

I continue to do some fancy tongue-work as I suck you... pushing your arse to drive your cock deeper into my mouth... and soon you’re gasping and quivering in my grip...

Mmm, I think with pleasure. This is going to put Bucharest to shame...

_Uhnnnn... I'm pleasantly heavy and this bed is soooo comfortable and you are doing what you do best, no contest; you're a great killer, and an excellent shot, but no one, no one in the *world*, gives blow jobs like you. I don't need to check; I'm absolutely certain. You're taking me to the edge time and again, and then *just* change your rhythm so I am left dangling on the precipice for longer than I can bear -_

_"Tiger - Sebastian - *please*..."_

_I still don't beg, as a rule, but this is sheer blissful *torture*..._

“Mmm-hmm...” I murmur as I continue to suck you and tease you. But then you groan and I relent and find a consistent rhythm - and then drive it hard and fast...

As I hear your gasps and moans float up to the ceiling and your body shivers in my hands, I smile. You cry out and come down my throat, as your body continues to spasm and twitch.

Fuck yes Jim, I think as a rumble of pleasure sounds in my throat.

_It's too much - surely this time my heart will give in - you've finally done it, Tiger, killed the old demon..._

_But no - racing and pounding, my heart goes on, and a beautiful vision looms over me, kisses me, and speaks words, which must be beautiful, because my face smiles._

_It takes a moment for the rest of me to gather itself together enough to be able to speak._

_"Wow," is my erudite summary._

I flop onto the bed next to you, watching you catch your breath.

“Wow is good,” I say, pleased. “Wow is _very_ good...”

I roll onto my elbow, and caress your face. “Do you desire anything else, my love?”

_"Just your assured immortality..." I murmur lazily. "Surely even Santa Muerte realizes it would be a crime against the universe to take someone so skilled away... I'll remind her when we're back in Mexico. Get her some decent tequila..."_

_I weigh a million pounds and this bed is fluffy and deliciously soft..._

_"Mfalling sleep, Tiger..."_

“I know, baby... so let’s get you under the covers...”

You protest mightily, but I pull the covers out from under us. I slip in next to you, pull the covers back up, and gather you against me. “And we’ll be sure to dazzle the clientele at Jimmy tomorrow. But for tonight, you can just dazzle me...” I whisper against your cheek, as you giggle and complain that I need a shave.

“I’m not working anymore, remember...?” I say, grinning into your neck.

“Well, _I’m_ not staying married to a vagabond,” you mumble sleepily.

I laugh out loud. “Vagabond? I had no idea...”

“Yes, _vagabond_. Shave it. Or I’ll tie you to a chair and come at you with a razor,” you say dreamily.

“Only you could make that sound sexy,” I grin, caressing your cheek.

“Quiet, Tiger. I’m sleeping,” you inform me drowsily.

I chuckle. “You sleep, kitten. And tomorrow we’ll take on New York...”

You murmur incoherently (something about crime bosses that are going to pay?), and I reach over to turn off the lamp attached to the headboard before I resettle myself against you and drift off into sleep.

_I wake with a pounding head (ow) but other than that, the world seems a lot better than yesterday. Though the light is filtered by the photochromic glass, it's definitely sunny. The air smells conditioned, of fresh sheets and new furniture._

_Aw, yes baby - New York, New York... time to drink down culture, ridiculously expensive cocktails, new clothes, limousines, shows... I sigh happily. I guess the one good thing about Scotland and Ireland is that it makes me appreciate how good it is to be surrounded by metal_ _and concrete with any plants properly fenced off and any fish either behind glass or on a plate._

_It's a shame there's no kitty here, but I have a Tiger breathing beside me, pulling me in his arms when he feels me stir._

I breathe you in for a moment, then notice how still you are. What’s wrong?

Ah.

Hungover Kitten is a challenging Kitten...

“Morning, sunshine...” I say lightly. “Hangover special?”

You scrunch up your face and turn your head away. “Ugh. Tiger, no.”

“You know you’ll feel better when you drink it...” I kiss your neck, and sit up, stretching.

“You an’ yer horrid voodoo water. Ah forbid yeh to make it...” you mumble, your Irish lilt muffled against the pillow.

But is that a hidden smile in your voice?

“And yet here I go making it...” I call out, padding towards the kitchenette.

“Then ah guess yer not long for dis world...” you call back. I hear the sound of what I imagine is a duvet being pulled over your head.

“Oh, say it isn’t so! What will become of me?” I lament, before wrapping my arms around myself and yawning mightily.

_"I got a gun, you know!" I call back, suppressing my accent - feck's - *fuck's*! - sake, you spend three days in the old country and it's like civilization never happened._

_You come in with your horrid concoction. I frown at it. "Coffee. And breakfast. Pancakes! With maple syrup! And eggs and bacon! And coke!"_

_You ring down for room service, and I drag myself to the dining area. Oh yes. Pancakes and chocolate. Whoops. Bad criminal, Moriarty._

_I throw myself into a chair, looking out at the stunning view, shading my eyes - sunny is nice, but not with a hangover... "Windows darker," I tell the room system, and the windows tint a bit more, and a bit more - "Stop." They're like sunglasses now. Much better._

_You follow me, bringing me your nasty potion once again, putting it on the table in front of me. With a disgusted face, I drink it. It will make me feel better, I know..._

I watch you sip the hated hangover cure. Good Kitten, I think to myself - stifling the urge to say it. I get away with a lot since we wed, but I’m not suicidal. That was practically a lifetime ago. Now I’ll have to be dragged kicking and screaming from this mortal coil if it means leaving you behind. But the Skinny Girl and I have an understanding. Don’t we, milady...

I keep releasing souls from their earthly packages to return to the underworld, and my Lord is left the fuck alone. To walk upon the earth with his Tiger, doing as he pleases. Ruling the world, looking divine... laughing over crime films with his husband... dancing up a storm... getting adorably plastered, eating like an unsupervised five-year-old... and oh, wreaking havoc on luxury hotel suites.

I look at the carpet and the walls spattered with chocolate, shaking my head. “This will cost a pretty penny...” I say cheerfully, and fall into a chair to wait for room service while I supervise you finishing your hangover potion.

I gesture at you to keep going. You stick out your tongue, and I purse my lips into an air kiss.

“It will be worth it when you’re swanning around Manhattan, _not_ vomiting up an evening of Black Russians into potted plants,” I grin.

“ _One plant... one time,_ Tiger!“ you protest, looking indignant.

“I know, my darling... and a hell of a time, as I recall...” I lean back in my chair, grinning cockily. “That was when the concierge rang the room - to politely let us know that a guest from the floor below thought someone was being murdered in our suite. And you were so drunk, you said-“

“Tell ‘em ‘no bodies yet, but the night is still young‘...” you say, smiling wickedly.

I burst out laughing. “Which strangely didn’t convince them that I was alive, and then they - s-sent up s-security...” I dissolve into laughter, covering my face with my hands. “And oh did they see more than they thought they’d see...”

_"Luxury hotel, you expect security to piss off when you tell them to, rather than just use the master key to open the door..." I snigger. "Good thing I hadn't gagged you, so you could assure them it was all consensual... though if I'd have gagged you, you wouldn't have made so much noise."_

_You laugh loudly. "I like to broadcast your magnificence to the world. Who can blame me?"_

_A knock on the door, and breakfast arrives. The server raises an eyebrow at the pancakes and chocolate all over their white room. I wave at it. "I was a bit drunk last night. Please clean that up when we're out - I'll leave a good tip." She nods, and finishes serving our breakfast, which smells delicious. I guzzle a pint of coke and tuck into the bacon and eggs._

I watch you as you devour your breakfast. Well at least you have a good appetite. And since you did take my hangover cure, I won’t be dealing with a grumpy, green-faced Jim... hurrah.

I sip my coffee, leaning back in my chair. “So what do you feel like doing today, baby? Do a bit of shopping? Find a spot of culture? Give security a reason to break into the room?” I give you a lazy grin as I raise the cup to my lips.

_"All of the above," I reply over my pancakes. "Fifth Avenue, Madison Avenue, Prada, Tiffany, Boss... you're going to need to *spoil* me after all this cave-dwelling. And then the Museum of the American Gangster? Or maybe the Museum of Mathematics. Dinner at Le Bernardin... maybe a late-night show? Though I might be *exhausted* from all the shopping..."_

My eyes widen. Fuck... I forgot how much you enjoy New York.

God, the Museum of Mathematics... Shoot me. Please.

"You realize we don't have to squeeze it _all_ in one day..." I say casually. "Besides, you'll want to have drinks at Jimmy, too. Save the museums or the late-night show for tomorrow, when you're not jet-lagged and hungover? Maybe?"

_When we've sent bags full of *simply scrumptious* goodies back to the hotel after some prime retail therapy, I skip into the Museum of Mathematics. It's after closing time, of course - I *love* this museum, but it's always full of kids, and people make such a fuss if you have your bodyguard remove them so you can play with the exhibits._

God, what a day... you made me buy new outfits too, to replace the ones you _insist_ I’ve worn for a decade. Seems highly unlikely - when it comes to suits and dressier outfits, you usually throw things away when you’re tired of seeing them. My assassin gear as well as my usual T-shirt, army trousers and boots ensembles are fortunately exempt from your watchful eye. Unless there are holes - I know not to inflict such an assault on your fashion sense.

By the time we get to the museum, I am more than ready to return to the hotel. But anything to make you happy, my love. Even arranging for you to have your fill of a museum after closing.

I alternate between checking work email and listening indulgently as you laugh your arse off in the cylindrical chamber where you twirl madly in a chair to create a curved surface out of straight lines... and when you expound upon wave phenomena... or begin sentences with “You see, Tiger... the thing about combinatorial algorithms is...”

After decades being married to you, I’ve managed to retain enough to be able to murmur knowingly, “And wouldn’t proving P=NP be a fun little romp for _someone_ , hmm darling?” - which merits me a glowing smile - and the next thing I know I’m being pushed against the wall of the museum, and kissed hungrily.

Damn. I should let you talk maths at me more often...

As I let your tongue invade my mouth, I dreamily think of my plan for tonight - dinner, and drinks at Jimmy... then tearing at each other’s clothes before we even leave the lift back to the room.


	8. A Class Act All the Way

_I *love* the Museum of Mathematics. It gets more fun every time, and we haven't been for *ages*._

_It's with great effort that you manage to convince me to come out because we're going to miss our reservation at Le Bernardin. I grumble that they will wait, but you plead starvation, so I let myself be manhandled into the limousine and transported the short distance to the restaurant, where a private chamber awaits._

_"Look at this Tiger... *proper* dining, not balancing on a log at a table sticky with ten decades of patrons' worth of beer waiting to be served whatever the owner's backwards cousin has managed to cough up tonight..."_

“Mm-hmm... at only ten times the cost,” I raise an eyebrow at you over my menu. “Fuck if I know... I just want fish and chips,” I sigh.

_"Oh, much more than ten times, Tiger..." I say breezily._

_"We'll have the chef's tasting menu with the wine pairing," I tell the waiter. "That way you can have a bit of everything. It's *all* so delicious here..._

_And when we get to the champagne, get us the bottle."_

_"An excellent choice, Sir," the waiter bows, and pours us both some water, then leaves - when you make reservations for us in restaurants, you always tell them that we have private business to discuss so to leave us alone as much as possible. You hate it when people hover to refill your glass or take away your cutlery and crockery, despite your posh upbringing; and I don't mind - I'd rather go through the hardship of filling my own glass than have someone lurk around listening to every word we say._

_Though when they do, we like making it into a game..._

_"Remember Guy Savoy in Paris?" I smile, and your face clears up as your gorgeous grin breaks through. "That was hi*la*rious..."_

I let out a loud laugh. “Blind date gone wrong?”

“A serious business...” you say loftily as you hide your smile in a glass of water.

“It is when the blind date is with the man who broke up your marriage years ago... _Very_ serious business... the waiter seemed to think you were going to go for my throat - funny how he had that impression - and took it upon himself to keep distracting us from fighting. Encouraging us to let bygones be bygones. And that toast he made... ‘To Paris, the city of love!’” I snigger behind my hand.

_"Pareeeee," I toast with my water glass, giggling. "And he did *so well* - the sexual tension was off the charts by the end of the meal. We even heavily hinted he should join in..."_

_We are heartily laughing at the memory when the first taster is served - tuna, foie gras, toasted baguette, chives, and oil; each having its provenance lyrically described by the waiter until I give him a *look*. He stammers the name and year of the wine while the *look* intensifies, and finally his spiel peters out._

_"I will be the judge of how good the food is. If it's not good enough to let the taste speak for itself, what am I doing here?" I ask him._

I smile brightly at the waiter who appears to have been stunned into silence - at last.

“I think that’s your cue, mate,” I say, winking. I hold up my glass of wine and nod towards the door. He looks unsure for a moment, then nods back and whisks himself off.

I drain my glass and thump it onto the table. “Well what do you know? It _is_ a good year...” I grin.

_"Se*bas*tian," I exclaim, semi-shocked. "That's no way to treat a - what did he say it was?"_

_"Fucked if I know," you grin. "Nice bit of plonk though. Shame there isn't more of it..."_

_"There will be eight courses, my darling. Each with their own wine, except for the sashimi, which will come with sake, and the first dessert, which you will be pleased to know, comes with a Trappist, and of course the champagne course will feature an entire bottle. Surely enough to get completely off your tits._

_Now eat your fish so you can have your second wine..."_

_I dip my slice of toasted baguette into the olive oil and bite it. Already delicious..._

_The fish also lives up to its saga - it *is* absolutely gorgeous. As usual beautifully presented and barely enough on your plate to feed a fly, but there are, like I said, seven more to come._

_Damn, that's good... I missed this..._

I eat my fish in three quick bites - Delicious, as expected...

“Well, Tiger?” you press. “Better than greasy fish and chips, you must admit...”

“It’s very good,” I say grudgingly. “But can I ask for seconds? I’m _starving_...”

You shake your head at me. “Always the ravenous tiger... Be patient, darling...”

“You and your love of fish,” I say, pushing my plate away. “Does it feel satisfying every time an evil little fish is pulled from the sea, deboned, grilled and covered in a lovely sauce?”

_"I can't say I have favourites..." I say primly. "It feels satisfying *any time* something dies for my pleasure."_

_I finish my wine._

_"Next!" I shout in the direction of the door. You laugh, I grin. It's usually you who delights in being the boor, but I'm happy to join in tonight. See? Three days in Ireland, and all culture has been eroded._

_Two pink-faced waiters enter with our next dish, the sashimi, and the sake. You look at the tiny glass. "Is that it?!" The waiter stammers that it's a very fine sake and deserves careful sipping, but you knock it back. "Bring the bottle."_

_As they scurry off, I giggle. They must think us the worst uncouth nouveaux riches... they'd be falling over themselves fawning if they realized you're the de facto Lord Moran - sure, you didn't claim the title, but it's still lying there waiting for you to either snap it up or die. Suddenly our behaviour wouldn't be boorish but *eccentric*..._

_"Honestly, Tiger... anyone would think you were born in a barn..."_

“A barn? How pastoral and sweet,” I say with a feral smile. “It could be far, far worse...”

The waiter returns with the bottle of sake, and makes to pour it into the ridiculously tiny glass. “Oh, you can take that away,” I drawl as I deftly remove the bottle from his hand and then tip it back into my mouth.

I hear a muffled laugh from across the table. “Such a savage _beast_ , darling...” you say, grinning madly.

I wipe my mouth with my hand. “But I’m _your_ savage beast, darling,” I say in a rough purr.

_"Aren't you just... and we're only on our second course. What will the poor, poor people have to put up with next? Don't drink all the sake - he's right, it's very good."_

_You take my water glass, pour the water into a potted plant, and slosh sake into it, then hand it to me. "Se*bas*tian..." I can't stop giggling. "You are going cause some poor sommelier to have a mental breakdown..."_

“Me?” I protest, pressing my hand to my chest, the picture of innocence. “Perhaps they’re ill-suited to this kind of work?” I ask, feigning concern. “I do hope I can behave for the rest of the meal that they’ll be tipped exorbitantly for... do tell me if I’m acting up again, won’t you darling?” I lean back in my chair, crossing my legs at the ankles. I smile and bring the bottle of sake to my lips.

_I sip some more of the sake - actually, getting the bottle was quite a good idea, Tiger, this is a very nice one. Though I doubt you're properly appreciating its refined taste, the way you're guzzling it. It complements the sashimi perfectly._

Course Three arrives shortly after... a pairing of yellowtail hamachi and a snappy Riesling. I gulp down half my glass and you raise an eyebrow at me.

“It’s no ale or whisky, but - it’s quite good,” I admit, and raise my glass to you. “You’re a class act... all the way, baby,” I grin and throw back the rest of my wine.

_I can't help it, I find us *hilarious* tonight. It's probably the relief at being away from Ireland and the wonderful day we had shopping and museuming... we will leave a generous tip to make up for it; you're always adamant that the little man doesn't have to suffer if we're misbehaving, whether it's killing a guy in a restaurant or just generally making a nuisance of ourselves for fun._

_I wipe my mouth primly with a damask napkin. "I'm well classy, babe," I say in an Essex accent. "Stick wif me, and ye'll 'ava great time."_

I chuckle and switch to a New York accent. “I ain’t evah leavin’ yah side, sweethaht,” I say, grinning wildly. “Dat’s a prawmise...”

_Course four takes too long for your liking so you slide under the table with its long cloth which reaches the ground and start fiddling with my trousers, making me squeal with laughter. When the waiter comes out and sees you gone and me in hysterics all by myself, he doesn't know what to make of it. He asks if he should wait to bring out the next course, so you pop your head out from under the tablecloth to tell him to just put it down, you'll only be a moment._

I’m guessing it’s the quickest a waiter has ever served a course... I slide my hands under your trouser cuffs and stroke your calves, making you hum in pleasure. When you chuckle, I don’t know whether it’s at me or the waiter... when I hear him leave, I rest my head against your thigh.

“Whatever he put on the table can’t possibly be as delectable as what’s right here,” I murmur, stroking your thigh through the fabric.

_"I'm sure he thinks you were so hungry you went for a snack in between... come out come out, Tiger. It looks really good; get it while it's hot." I nudge you with my foot and you crawl out pouting._

I look at the table and perk up. The lobster course?

“Now we’re talkin’...” I rub my hands together and throw myself into my seat, grab a fork and sample the grilled lobster in foamy, fragrant sauce.

“S’good... shame I don’t get to crack the fucker open, though...” I grin.

_"Next time we go to a posh restaurant I'll ask if you can go to the kitchen to kill our food with your bare hands like the caveman you are..." I promise. "As long as I don't have to eat it after you have cooked it, I'm fine."_

“Aww... you wouldn’t eat my fresh kill?” I pout as polish off the rest of the dish. “After I made it special for you? Even if I slathered it in a posh sauce?” I say with a smirk.

I swipe my finger through the leftover sauce on my plate, consider it, and lick it suggestively. “Come now, my darling… I know what you like...” I grin.

_"I like champagne - and we get some with the next course, if you don't scare away the staff," I chide you._

_"Garçon! Shop!" I call out._

My head falls back as I laugh uproariously.

“You realize the Americans don’t know what that means...” I snigger.

“And yet... here he comes,” you announce smugly. “At rather a brisk pace...”

I snort. “You don’t say...”

The waiter arrives looking flushed, and presents the next course - grilled sole. Another waiter appears in a flash with a bottle of champagne - Krug Grande Cuvée. I’m sure you approve... I’d be just as happy with Prosecco but whatever my baby wants, he gets.

In a moment the cork has popped loudly and foamy white liquid pours over the edge before being quickly directed into our champagne flutes.

I cover my mouth with my hand theatrically and look at you.

“Mmm... so _explody_ , darling,” I drawl, plucking the glass from the waiter’s hand. “Now I have an idea of how to thank you tonight...” I purse my lips, the picture of innocence.

_"*Really*, my pumpkin?" I bat my eyelashes at you. "Whatever could you mean?"_

_I turn to the waiter. "He baffles me... but he's such a sweetie-pie. Isn't he the cutest cupcake you've ever seen?"_

The waiter's lips part, but no sound comes out at first.

"Of course, Sir..." he says smoothly.

The younger waiter with the champagne bottle lets out a noise that sounds remarkably like a stifled giggle. This gains him a severe look, and a subtle head jerk - he places the bottle in the silver ice bucket with a smile that's half-apologetic, half-trying-desperately-not-to-laugh.

Your gaze falls on him. “And you? Is he not the cutest cupcake?" you say archly.

I cover my mouth with my hand as his face grows red from desperately trying to keep in his mirth.

_"I'm waiting, young man..." I tap my fingers on the table. The poor boy lets out a squeak, then coughs, then seems to get himself under control, and with a red face and a grinning mouth manages to squeeze out "Indeed, Sir..."_

_"To cute cupcakes!" I raise my glass, and you do the same, crashing it into mine, just managing not to break them both. We raise them at the waiters, who retreat through the doors. I can just hear muffled laughter erupt as they close._

I fall forward against the table and bury my head in my arms...laughing silently, shoulders shaking.

“Oh - Jesus-“ I wheeze out. “Thought - I was going- to explode-“

_"Tiger, *honestly*," I shake my head. "Can't take you *anywhere*. Making innuendos in front of young impressionable servers... the poor boy was all aflush. I should make you follow him and apologize..."_

“Apologize?” I grin, wiping away my tears. “Whatever for? We made his fucking night...”

I refill our champagne glasses, then hand you yours and lift up mine. “To you, my mad little cupcake...” I chuckle. “Without fail, the best time I’ve ever had... and you’ve made it last a lifetime.”

_Aww, my Sebbie, you're so - *awwww*._

_I jump up and plonk myself on your lap. "You're the sweetest cutest bestest Tiger in the whole wide world," I assure you, give you a big kiss on your forehead, and dash back to my seat - mustn't let the sole go cold._

“So,” I say as we eat. “You’ve been enjoying our little jaunt across the world? We only have Vegas after this... and then we return to Mexico. I’m looking forward to being back. It will be perfect weather for swimming, not too hot yet. The one place on this earth you enjoy going into the water..." I grin and hold up my glass again. "To Casa Guarida del Tigre!"

_"The sea there is different. We've washed off so much crap in that place that no life within a mile of the shore could have survived... god, Tiger, those sessions on the beach. They were *brutal*... but fuck did they help us get rid of a lot of shit."_

_You reach out your hand across the table, I lay mine on top of it._

_"My gorgeous husband... I'll always be grateful to that little villa for what it's done for us. The worst bit of that honeymoon was when I thought we couldn't go back; when Bane told us our location was known and people were coming for us... I was devastated that no matter what happened, we would have to give up our beloved Guarida..."_

I wince at the memory. “Yeah, don’t remind me. We nearly lost our sanctuary, and I thought it was all my fault. But it all worked out, thank Christ...”

Strange to think of Bain now... my former brother in arms from my army days. How it tore me up that I had to kill him after everything we’d been through. But then - no matter how much he wanted me, he shouldn’t have plotted to kill you. End of _fucking story_.

It doesn’t sting like it used to... I’ve put it to rest. Mostly.

But whatever regrets I’m still nursing, they don’t measure up compared to a lifetime with my true love.

I squeeze your hand. “That villa... felt enchanted from the very beginning. From the moment we stepped onto the property and we felt the sea calling to us to go in. I don’t know how we would have moved on from the past without it...” I say in a daze. “And every time we go back, it’s like...” I trail off, struggling to put it into words. “Rebirth,” I say with a shrug. “It’s like a fucking rebirth...”

_I'm not one for outpourings of mystical musings like yourself, but I think I do see what you mean. I recall how we were when we arrived - *so* on edge, *so* volatile and fragile, just reunited, just married, strained to breaking point after our year apart after my death... and when we walked into that villa, the sun shining through the large windows, looking out onto the beach, the sea behind it, so blue, so vast, just *beckoning*..._

_I remember how you dealt with the owner showing us round while I just - walked onto the sand, stared into the expanse of sky and sea... and something shifted. I was no longer who I was, and I had no idea who I was becoming, but I knew that I would become him there, in that place, with you, or not at all._

_Two bewildered confused strung out men walked in, a loving family of two husbands and their baby kitten walked out. The place is nothing short of a miracle; the Vatican would send buses if they knew._

_I pour us both another glass, raise mine. "To Guarida del Tigre... and the Tigre who made it the first true home I'd ever had."_

I smile glowingly at you and drink from my glass. “You’re not alone... My childhood home felt more like a museum - I wasn’t to touch anything outside my bedroom.” I roll my eyes. “Guarida del Tigre made everything after possible... including Hypatia’s loft which she’s kind enough to let us stay at...” I grin. “Have you checked on her lately? How is the great lady faring?”

_"You made up for that for touching just about everything inside your bedroom," I quip. "She's fine - Julia's been sending me pictures, sorry I forgot to share -" I get out my phone to show you the latest pics of our gorgeous empress. "Do you think she'd like Keith?"_

I groan inwardly. “Still thinking about Keith?” I ask.

Of course you’re still thinking about Keith...

“Well, he’s a beautiful cat, perhaps her majesty would enjoy having him in her court...” I say, and drain my glass.

_"He is, isn't he... but then - remember Tommy? He was so cute, we thought she was bound to love him, and it was World War III from day one..."_

_I look at my phone, at the pictures of Hypatia. Suddenly I realize - "I didn't take any pictures of him! Of Keith, I mean - did you?"_

I look at you like ‘look who you’re talking to’...

“No,” I say dryly. “I didn’t take any pictures of the cat. But I’m sure the staff will be thrilled to do so for you. Anyway, maybe it’s a chemistry thing vs a cuteness thing... There was something about Keith,” I say, finally letting the realization rise to the surface. “Something... unusual. And... you know how Hypatia always seems half in, half out of this world. More so than is even usual for cats, I mean... maybe they would get along. They could have seances and shit...”

I grin, but think back to the strange memory of Keith fighting off a magpie as if protecting us from... something...

_"Hmm... The last thing we need is some mystical mog tempting our queen into cat magic like some feline Rasputin..." I ponder, when the waiters come in with the next dish, looking carefully neutral._

_I'm getting a bit sick of fish now, but this is the last one, before the dessert courses. You snigger, and I throw you a warning look._

I take a bite of the halibut as the wine is poured. “Very nice. Also delicious battered and deep-fried, with chips on the side,” I say helpfully. “Just a suggestion...”

The younger waiter focuses intently on the wine pouring, his face growing pink with effort

“I’ll - let the chef know, Sir,” the more senior waiter says politely, his lips twitching.

“Do that... with a nice tartar sauce, you’ll get rave reviews,” I say cheerfully and do a dramatic chef’s kiss. They nod wordlessly and hurry out.

As the door clicks shut, the sound of muffled laughter floats through.

“Well, at least they’re enjoying themselves now...” I grin, and sample my wine.

_"I don't know *why* I bother," I sigh, though grinning. "I buy you exquisite clothes, I take you to the most exclusive restaurants, and you're just pining for your old combats and Kev's Fish and Chips from a newspaper..."_

“Kev’s Fish and Chips... bloody delicious,” I sigh. “But don’t get me wrong, this is nice, too,” I assure you, waving a forkful of fish before sliding it into my mouth.

“ _Nice_ ,” you echo, shaking your head. “You would make a very strange sort of Lord, Sebastian Moriarty...”

“On that we can both agree,” I say, pouring myself more wine. “To never finding out,” I say, lifting up my glass. “And to putting an end to the lineage, of course,” I say, smiling at you ferally.

_"To ending the lineage of Lord Moran! Though I can't quite hate him as fully as you do - he *did* make a *very* wonderful son."_

“To ending the line!” I say with a broad smile as I raise my glass. “And may my father spin in his grave...” I down my glass and thump it onto the table. “Thank you for the sweet words, my darling... I assure you he did not agree, but I stopped caring about his opinions a very long time ago...” I stare off for a moment. “On the other hand, I enjoyed our little revenge ploy _very much_... and when you met him face to face, and introduced yourself as my husband. Now _that_ was an evening to remember,” I say, smiling with satisfaction.

_"Oh yes," I grin at the memory. We're in quite the reminiscing mood tonight... but I guess that's normal on your silver wedding anniversary, when you're retiring..._

_The next dish is dessert - good; I'm getting tired of all the fish. It's the most *delicious* chocolate pot, and to your delight is served with a beer - a Trappist, which is sweet enough for me to enjoy as well._

After you’ve finished up your dessert, I watch you licking your spoon in the most sumptuous manner. My god, you love sweet things...

“Honey, if you’re going to keep licking the spoon like that, I’m going to have to disappear under the table again...” I warn you. I feel little Seb grow slightly hard, but then I realize how uncomfortable I am after all these courses...

“And I’m actually rather full, so - I guess I should probably wait until we’re back in the hotel suite,” I admit grudgingly. “Shocking, I know...”

_"Who are you and what have you done with my husband?" I wink, as the eighth and final course is brought - a gorgeous pavlova with a dessert wine. You groan at the sight, but I always have space for sweet stuff..._

I finish my last bite and push my empty plate back. No effete restaurant is going to make me concede defeat, that’s for bloody sure.

“And now with a generous tip and infernal taxes, we pay close to $1000 for dinner. Such a steal,” I say wryly. “But at least it was dinner and a show,” I grin as I watch the waiters hurry towards the room with strained expressions.

_It's well over $1000, but who cares... we have so much money we couldn't spend it all if we ate like this every day, morning, noon, and night. *Someone* came of poor beginnings and decided never again... and that someone always gets what he wants._

_I count out 25 $100 bills and hand them to the waiters, who are looking politely neutral, but very pleased. I'm sure all hard feelings have been forgotten..._

_They ask us if there's anything else at all they can do for us, and to come back any time. I assure them we will, then, pleasantly buzzing and with your arm around me, walk out into the magical New York night. I can't get enough of New York nights... London is marvellous; there's no city like it and I love her, but there's a vibrancy about New York that you just can't find anywhere else._

Strolling with you in New York City under the moonlight... is just what we needed after the nightmare that happened in Ireland.

I see a woman selling long-stemmed red roses on the street corner, and I stop to buy one from her. She glances at our wedding rings and beams at us.

“What a romantic husband you have,” she says in a thick New York accent. “Have yourselves a beautiful night!”

I slide my arm back around your shoulder and hand you the rose. “The night couldn’t get much more beautiful than this,” I murmur, gazing at you.

_Aw. *Aw.* *Awwwwwwwww.*_

_You buy me a rose and you say I'm beautiful... if you want me, I'll be that Moriarty-shaped puddle on the floor._

_I take the rose, stand on my toes, kiss your cheek, whisper "Thank you, my gorgeous husband..."_

_You've always been so romantic, once I let you. You have a huge heart and are always thinking up the best ways to make me feel good, to surprise me, to please me, in every way. My birthdays and Christmases are invariably amazing - even my genius brain struggles to come up with gifts for you to match the ones you get for me._

_The best one was when I had just come back from the dead, and we were on our first honeymoon... the giant statue you had commissioned in my memory, now a birthday gift instead of a cenotaph. I shake my head remembering how dumbstruck I was when I saw it - and how enraptured when it was slowly unwrapped. It was - still is, it's sturdy bronze - a *masterpiece*, immortalizing the pure essence of me, barefoot and ferocious, riding towards unseen enemies, my face frenzied and ecstatic. I love it; we have a small cast of it in every house we own._

_We stroll a bit further and hail a taxi to take us to the hotel. It's a lovely night, but walking all the way after eight courses is too much to ask. I snuggle up to you on the back seat, holding my rose, feeling glowy and happy._

When we arrive at the hotel, I check with the concierge to confirm we’ll find a vase in our suite - and of course there’s one waiting for us, in a cabinet in the living room.

You busy yourself filling it with water and unwrapping the rose from its cellophane. The vase is placed on the nightstand next to your side of the bed, and you gaze at it happily.

“I know I give you a hard time about that kind of place...” I say approaching you. “But it was an amazing night... thank you.” I wrap my arms around you from behind, and your head falls back against my shoulder. You reach up to stroke my face, and I kiss your neck softly.

_"I'm too full up and tired to go to the Jimmy..." I confess. "Let's just veg out here and watch something?"_

“Mmm... sounds perfect...” I breathe against your neck. I cradle you softly for a moment against me before turning you around.

“A heist film? Black and white detective drama? Whatever you want...”

_We start up The Rope, one of my favourite Hitchcocks, but I keep nodding off in your arms. It's so good to lie in bed, in my Tiger's arms, resting my feet which are pleasantly sore after all the walking we've done today... tomorrow we'll get to open up all the purchases which are piled up in the lounge... god, I love New York._

_"Tomorrow, we should take it easy during the day, so we can go and paint the town red at night..." I mumble._

“Mmm... sounds perfect...” I say in a lazy drawl, and press my lips to your forehead. I suppose it’s not long after that we doze off because I don’t remember a blessed thing...

I wake in the morning, feeling bone-weary from jet lag - but extremely cosy in our cocoon of blankets. One blanket has been pulled over your head which leaves me chuckling.

_Chuckling Tiger? What's so funny?_

_I open my eyes, but everything's cloudy. I struggle to get out of the white mist, making you chuckle more, then an opening appears, showing a smiling husband._

_"Day too bright for you?" you ask. "Mmm," I affirm, moving to liberate myself from the blanket roll I seem to have wrapped myself in. "Wuztime?"_

_"Nearly eleven," you smile._

_Time to get up, I guess... though... we're retired. We could stay in bed all day if we wanted to... not that we haven't done that before, but - it's hard to think that we won't have to work *ever again*. Well, we *can*, if we want to. It's not like anyone is going to stop us. Not if they want to live, anyway._

_For a moment, it seems a scary spectre... waking up every day without purpose -_

_but then what has my purpose been, all my life? Making myself so rich I would never have to worry about money again, making myself so untouchable no one would ever touch me again, and then when I'd reached that state - just keeping going, I guess. Trying to find new challenges and beat them..._

_My favourite challenge is looking at me with hungry eyes. Ah yes. There's nothing like beating *that* challenge..._

_"Order breakfast, then get me the bags from the Stock Room..." I say, stretching lazily._

Your mind seems heavy with thoughts for a moment... but then your face clears and you demand breakfast. And... oh?

“ _Right away_ , Sir,” I say with a grin, and reach for the phone. Once I’ve given our order, I saunter to where bags are piled in the cupboard. Strangely, my jet lag has been forgotten...

When I return, I leave the bags on the bedcovers for your perusal. Then I throw myself on the bed and look at you in bright-eyed innocence.

_Don't *you* look eager. No wonder - it was hard enough to keep you off me after we'd left the shop yesterday. I look at the pile of boxes and bags - it's like kinky Christmas..._

_"I'm not touching anything till I've had my coffee, Tiger..." I smile equally innocently._

“Not... anything?” I say in a husky voice, taking your hand and kissing the palm. My tongue flicks out against your skin and then I drop kisses along your wrist and forearm. My hands close over your bicep.

God... _your arms_ , I think dreamily.

_Mmmm... I believe we have a captivated Tiger._

_What could we do with one of those?_

_I smile, reach for one of the boxes, open it. Inside is a gorgeous dark leather collar with a chain running through a D-ring at the front, linked to two wrist cuffs. The chain is long enough to let you stretch out one arm, but that means the other wrist is all the way up to the collar. Your eyes light up when I take it out._

_"On your knees, facing me, Tiger," I murmur, and you hurry to obey._

_I love putting a collar on you. It always feels a bit ceremonial, like a wedding or coronation ceremony..._

_I take it out of its box, lift it in front of you. You lean forward, place your neck inside, then lean further down to give me easy access to the back of your neck, where I close the buckle. When I've locked it, you lean back up and present your wrists, looking at me with eyes large and blue._

_I put your wrists in the cuffs, lock those too, pull your right hand up, kiss the palm, then lick up the sensitive inside of your forearm._

_A knock sounds on the door. "Room service!"_

_"Ah, Tiger, could you get that?" I smile._

“Really?” I sigh, and you arch an eyebrow.

“ _Really?_ Am I in any state to go to the door?” you sniff, and wave me off.

Well, we were too tired to fuck so I’m wearing pants at least... don’t want to shock the staff too much.

“But of course, darling,” I say and get up. I make my way out of the bedroom, casting a look back and seeing you smile at me innocently.

Then I cross the suite and open the door with my free hand.

“Hello-o-ohh,” a young man says, from behind a trolley of covered serving dishes. His smile freezes and he looks at me questioningly.

“It’s exactly what it looks like,” I tell him with a lopsided grin, and gesture at the dining area with my head. “Right there will be just fine...”

“Of course, Sir,” he says, smiling politely. Amusement dances in his eyes as he rolls the trolley in and sets out the plates on the dining room table.

“Thank you, we’ll make certain you receive a nice tip... Do show yourself out, won’t you?” I say, smiling easily.

“Enjoy your breakfast, Sir,” he says studiously. I already can tell he’ll be laughing in the lift and then telling his work buddies about this. Of course.

I wave jauntily with my free hand, and then as he leaves, I hear a muffled laugh as the door swishes shut.

I sigh and drop into a chair. “Darling!” I shout. “breakfast is served!”

_I love you, Tiger... you don't let anything faze you._

_I walk into the dining room, a big grin on my face. "You're not scandalizing the staff again, are you, Tiger?"_

_"Wouldn't think of it, Sir," you say, pouring coffee. "Your coffee, Sir?"_

We breakfast together in a leisurely fashion, you in a fluffy bathrobe provided by the hotel, me in a collar and chains.

Don’t ever change, Jim...

When I push aside my plate with my free hand, you smile and raise your coffee up to your lips. “Satisfied, Tiger?”

“For the moment,” I purr softly and lean back in my chair.


	9. Good Morning, New York

_"Let's let breakfast settle for a bit before we go and exert ourselves," I decide, strolling to the living room with the pot of coffee and my cup. In the past I'd have told you to wait for me on your knees, but I don't want to make your knee worse, so I point to the sofa. "Sit down, Tiger... legs apart." You sit in the corner of the sofa, one leg up, one dangling, and I sit down in my favourite spot - leaning against your strong warm chest, my hands on your thighs, your arms - well, arm - around me._

_I switch on the telly and dim the windows, and we finish last night's film._

Before the credits even start to roll, I’m nibbling your neck.

“Wonderful film, Sir,” I breathe into your skin. “Such an uplifting story...” I say as I plant kisses along your throat.

_"Do you even remember what it's about?" I giggle as you lick under my ear - that tickles Tiger, and you know it -_

_"Mmmm. Bondage, wasn't it?" you murmur in my ear, making me squeal and fold my shoulder up._

_"Insatiable beast..." I sigh. "Right - head to the bedroom, and choose the next bag to open. Choose carefully..."_

“Do I get to peek-?” I ask as you move aside so I can get up.

You shrug. “There are consequences to everything, darling...” you say and lean back on the sofa, crossing your arms.

Grinning, I roll my eyes. “ _Of course_ there are. I’ve met you, you know...” I raise an eyebrow and head to the bedroom. The bags look roughly the same. God, you bought so many things - stainless steel cat claws. Extendable spreader bar. Thigh sling. Japanese silk ropes. Bondage tape. Bar gag. Adjustable restraint sets.

Don’t think I want to bring down the one with the cock cage - surely that’s if I’m being punished for something? But I’ve been nothing but well-behaved. Well, except for the restaurant, but you enjoyed that.

Fuck it. I won’t look, and it will be a fun surprise for all. I grab a bag, test it for weight, shrug and head downstairs.

When I reach you, I drop the bag on the sofa. “NO idea what I’m in for...” I say with a wry smile.

_"Oh, I see," I raise my eyebrows. "A blind pick? Well, you've made an *excellent* choice, I must say..." I grin, stroking the bag._

_"Go on Tiger... open it."_

_You take the box out of the bag, see the man at the front, all in shiny latex. "Ah..."_

_"Go ahead," I purr. "I can't wait to see my Tiger in a catsuit."_

I stare at the image on the box. “When did you buy this?? I didn’t see it...”

“No, you were looking at… other things,” you say with a feline smile.

“A catsuit doesn’t seem very accessible...” I try, and you laugh softly.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Tiger. I’ll find my way around it...”

I open the box slowly and pull out the gleaming material. “Well, normally I’d leave to get dressed, and put on a show for you...” I say drily. “but I suspect I’m going to need your help getting into this thing...”

_"Ah, yes," I grin, fish the key out of the pocket of my robe, and unlock your cuffs, hang them from the collar. "There you go..."_

_You shake out the rubbery material, and laugh when you see the zippers. "I see I won't have to worry too much about access, good. Now to worm my way into this..." you muse as you take the bottle of dressing aid out of the box._

_"I'll leave you to take care of that," I smile. "You'll recall that I also bought a simply delightful synthetic cane, which I'm sure will have a significant impact even through the latex. You're having one stroke of that for every minute it takes you to put this on - and mind you, I want it to look perfect. No sagging crotch or asymmetrical armpits. There's no telling how much extra you'd get for that... and I don't even want to think about if you *tear* it." I shudder._

_"Good luck sweetheart!" I blow you a kiss, then focus my attention on my phone._

Shaking my head, I throw the latex suit over my shoulder and make my way to the bedroom.

I shuck off my pants, and then stare at the bottle of dressing aid. I laugh - the things I do for you. But then, I imagine how much you’ll enjoy the sight of me in this, and how fucking good my body still looks after all these years - and suddenly I’m looking forward to making my appearance.

Now to just get the thing on... I apply the dressing aid, shivering slightly.

I pull one leg through, then the other.

Then wriggle as I pull it up over my hips - suddenly I’m very glad to be putting this on by myself. I hop up and down a couple of times as I jerk the material up towards my chest.

Then comes pulling the arms through the sleeves, which seems to be the hardest part, and I continue to pull the latex up higher to have the room I need to manoeuvre. Jesus - snug fit. Not exactly a lot of room for little Seb. Every time I pull up the latex, my balls are getting squeezed.

No wasting time whinging, soldier - how many minutes has it been? Shit, I didn’t pay attention to the time. Four minutes by now?

Setting my jaw, I shove one arm through a sleeve. Yank up the latex again, giving my poor balls an unintentional squeeze. Then I just barely get an arm halfway through the remaining sleeve before I get stuck. I look up at the ceiling furiously. I’m not going to get _this close_ and need to ask for help.

“Mother _fucker_ ,” I shout, push my arm through further, hearing the sound of a couple of threads snapping. I freeze, then experimentally prod my hand through fabric until I find the opening. I grab the sleeve with my other hand, and yank it up.

Success! I pat the sleeve into place, then do some more pulling of fabric and smoothing it over my crotch and armpits. I don’t even want to look under my arm where I heard threads snap. Hopefully it’s not too noticeable...

If you see something you don’t like, I’ll know soon enough.

Five minutes?

I reach over my shoulder and grit my teeth as I stretch to slowly zip up the catsuit.

I grab my phone, scroll through a playlist, and make my selection - then hook it up to the speaker on the chest of drawers

As I move towards the door, the music starts.

I open the door and stalk towards you.

_I am gonna follow you tonight_

_All the way, all the way home_

_I am gonna find you in the night_

_All the way, all the way home_

You throw your phone onto the sofa, and look me up and down with pleasure as I approach you.

_You see me you see a stranger_

_I see you I see danger_

I sink to my knees, and move my latex-covered arms over your thighs, gripping them through the bathrobe. Then with my elbows I push the terrycloth fabric back to partly expose your thighs, which I press kisses into before nipping the flesh.

_Pain, always pain_

_Pain, always pain_

_Ohhhh, prowling Tiger in latex -_

_Fuck you look hot. You have the body of a man half your age - a very fit one, as well._

_You’re in front of me, kissing me, moving sinuously to the music._

_I shed the bathrobe, pull you against me - hmmm, rubber-clad Tiger... feels very sexy. The chains feel cold though - I unclip the cuffs, pull the chain through the collar, and throw them onto the table. The collar looks good and stays on._

I press you into the sofa, cage your head with my hands on either side before swooping in for a heated kiss.

_Pain_

_Breaks the rhythm_

_Breaks the rhythm_

_Breaks the rhythm_

I have to admit, there’s something about being wrapped in a large swathe of impenetrable fabric that’s strangely titillating... but of course it’s just a matter of time before you find your way in...

I break off the kiss, and bend my head to lick your throat.

“So...” I say in a low growl. “What was the final count with the cane, Sir?”

_"Seven minutes... and then of course the stitches you pulled in your armpit. No appreciation at all for the expensive gifts I get you," I shake my head sadly as the music winds down. You wince - oh, did you really think I wouldn't notice? How long have you known me?_

_A knock comes on the door, hesitant. You curse under your breath; I call "What is it?"_

_"Housekeeping, Sir? Would you like me to clear away breakfast?"_

_"Oh, Tiger - would you let them in?"_

I laugh in disbelief. “God... seriously?” I groan.

You slip your bathrobe back on, and cross one leg over the other. “You keep asking me that...” you say in a mildly reproving voice. “Have you known me to joke about these things, Sebbie darling?”

I huff. “There’s always a first time...”

You stroke my cheek. “You’re just making it harder on yourself, as you know very well... So if you’ve finished delaying... _the door_ , Sebastian.”

I smile at you, a fierce hungry smile, and stand up gracefully. Then I saunter to the door, looking back to blow you a kiss.

It’s my amused friend from before. He scans me up and down, and his lips twitch.

“Would you believe it’s the latest in rain gear?” I say with a rakish grin.

He laughs out loud. “ _Very_ stylish, Sir...”

“Yep. Sure to catch on any moment,” I say airily, and gesture towards the table. “All yours, mate...”

With a barely suppressed smirk, he starts tidying everything away. But when he sees you watching him, his eyes widen and all traces of the smirk vanish. He looks at me cautiously, as if to say ‘Oh! Now I see what you’re dealing with...’

I chuckle. Oh, you have _no idea_ , honey...

When I escort him out, he looks back at me and the mischievous light in his eye returns. “Enjoy your day, Sir,” he says, the picture of innocence.

“I’ll try to keep it down. But it may be out of my hands...” I say with a wink. When I see the fascinated look in his eye, this time I’m the one who’s laughing as the door swings shut.

I wander back towards you. “Well, that certainly intrigued him...” I say lazily.

_"We may have put some interesting ideas in the young man's mind," I grin. "Now, where were we... ah yes. The seven minutes, and the rip in the armpit. Shall we say, fourteen? And then I unzip you and take you over the back of this sofa... and then, if you're very good, I might have a surprise for you. What do you think?"_

For a second I think you mean fourteen minutes of caning, and it feels like white noise in my head. But then I clue in - fourteen minutes, fourteen strokes...

and then I picture you unzipping my well-disciplined arse and claiming it...

I exhale slowly, and a smile plays on my lips.

“What do _I_ think? Oh, more than fair, Sir...” I purr.

I walk in a slow circle, arms out. “Where do you want me?”

_"Right here, I think," I point at the sofa. You give me a saucy insouciant wink, and drape yourself over the back, raising your gorgeous arse in the air. It looks decidedly delicious in the tight black latex - I swipe my hand over it, feel the tight smoothness, feel my groin respond. Twenty-five years of marriage, and that hasn't changed..._

_I take the wrist cuffs and their chain, loop it round the middle leg of the sofa, then tie them to your wrists, pull the chain taut. One tied-up Tiger..._

_I smack your arse, making a very satisfying slapping sound, then walk to the bedroom to find the synthetic cane. "Don't move, Tiger..."_

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sir...” I call back after you. What exactly do you think I’ll do, flip the sofa to free myself? And be waiting in wrist cuffs for you to rush back to see what chaos I’ve created this time?

I laugh at the thought, especially imagining your expression. But I can behave (mostly) - so when you return, I’m waiting patiently and whistling _Grieg’s In the Hall of the Mountain King_.

_I take the cane from its box - it's an interesting one; a strong sturdy poly-something - I can't believe I *forgot* - anyway, not relevant. It's thuddier than a nylon or rattan cane, and should make an impression on unruly Tiger flesh even through the tight latex._

_I walk back to the living room area and lick my lips when I see you - fuck, your arse would still turn every head if you'd enter some fetish club like this - ohhh, maybe we should. You chained up, in latex, on a leash... me in an impeccable suit... hmmm. I would have to hold myself back from shooting everyone who looked at you too long, though - until the end of the evening, at least._

_Anyway. Fun and games at home first._

_I march towards you and lash the cane down without warning, making you start and gasp._

I’m still whistling as I hear your footsteps moving towards me, and it just makes it more exciting...

Suddenly I hear a sharp lash, and I gasp in surprise at the bright, stinging pain.

I would complain that you interrupted the song, but I don’t think that will go in my favour. Instead I softly continue where I left off, bracing myself for the next lash.

_That made a delicious sound and impact. It feels different than caning bare skin; less direct, but somehow deeper._

_I raise the cane again, lash the second strike._

_I've done this so many times over the years, and it never gets old. Your face, your sounds, your delicious arse..._

_I move my way across your bottom, aiming the strokes parallel to each other, working my way down._

The song I’m whistling keeps being interrupted at key moments. You’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you - I do my best to keep the rhythm going for a bit, but I don’t remember when I stopped from all the panting and groaning.

It’s still playing in my head as you _thrash_ my latex-clad arse within an inch of my life.

“God,” I moan. “Fuck - _god_ , Jim -“

_Why do you keep *whistling*, you weird Tigger?_

_Seven lashes, in parallel, and I pause, stroke your bottom, the lines of the cane standing out dull in the shining latex._

_Yes, god... I'm your god, Tiger, and as long as I am, I'm invincible, immortal... I'm sure of it._

_"Seven more, Tiger, before I fuck you in full view of New York, if they only knew to look..."_

I smile at this, then groan loudly at the next lash.

One -

Well, smack my arse and call me a brazen exhibitionist - that just made this ten times hotter.

Two -

“God,” I say breathily. “You really know how to-“ I gasp.

Three -

“Put a Tiger in his-“

-gasp-

Four -

“-place-“ I say, panting. “Sir.”

My cock has grown ridiculously hard, and is making the latex uncomfortably snug.

“Oh god-“ I groan. Keep it together, Seb... he hasn’t even started fucking you in front of New York yet...

_"Last three - I'm making them count..." I announce, then give you three hard lashes in quick succession._

As you deliver the final blows, I pant and then grow limp against the back of the sofa. “God...” I groan. “Well done, Sir...”

_I love the sounds you make when I punish you, the way your face contorts in pain and then sinks into bliss, the way your body tenses and then relaxes... such a beautiful dance, and I'm the conductor and the choreographer._

_But now it's time for the next part of the dance... I walk to the front of the sofa and drop my bathrobe, then walk back, open the handy zip that gives me access to your gorgeous arse. A shame I can't really see my artwork, but it's more than made up for by the glorious vision of a latexed Tiger stretched out before me. I work in some lube, then press myself against you._

_"Good morning, New York..." I sigh towards the large window as I sink into the luscious bliss that is my husband..._

I feel myself being unzipped, and a draft of air sweeps across my exposed arse. My cock hardens and twitches as lube is deftly applied.

And then you’re gripping my hips and I’m letting out a raspy moan as you penetrate me - pushing into me deeper and deeper until I feel your pelvis press against my sore arse.

I exhale slowly as you move and adjust inside me.

“ _Oh_ ,” I say, breathing in shakily as you withdraw slightly. “Good morning, indee-“ I start but my words are swallowed by a loud groan as you thrust into me firmly.

_*This* is life. Balls-deep in the hottest man on the planet, chained down for my pleasure, the world at my feet._

_My fingers tighten on the rubber - it feels so deliciously kinky; makes your body look even better than usual; your muscles clearly lined out under the shining stuff. Underneath, I know my initial standing proud on your back..._

_All this, combined with the earlier caning, makes me heady, makes me hot, makes me reach towards my climax -_

_I dig my fingers into your hips as I go faster –_

I moan, dizzy with desire as you thrust into me harder and faster. I look up to stare through the window, imagining what we would look like through a telescope.

Fuuuuck, why is that so hot?

The thought of you taking me in front of the world, showing anyone who can see that I belong to you, am fully owned by you...

“Oh god,” I pant as you pound me against the sofa, your balls smacking rhythmically against my arse. “You’re - so - fucking - hot,” I growl.

_Your growls push me over the edge, or I was already there, I don't know, but I come intensely, hangover orgasms are always *so good*..._

_I find myself panting, leaning on the back of the sofa, trying to remain upright, my heart racing._

_Fucking hell. I always said I'd die from a heart attack during sex with you... but not until we're both in our nineties, so keep beating, old thing._

You stay lodged inside me, leaning on my back, trying to catch your breath.

When you begin to soften, you start to pull out and I moan from the loss. After twenty-five years, you would think I would have got used to it. But no, it always feels like a moment of panic, like I’m losing you. But to be fair, I couldn’t lie draped over this sofa for too much longer without it hurting my back, and anyway - I’m more than ready to get out of this latex, now that I’m all hot and sweaty from being gloriously fucked by the hottest man I’ve ever seen.

“Mmm... I hope New York enjoyed that as much as I did,” I say, turning my head to look back at you with a smirk.

_"If they had the sense to look, I'm sure they did..." I sigh, then lean over to untie you from the sofa, but tie your wrists together behind your back. You look at me with big expectant eyes._

_"Stay here; I'll be right back," I wink._

“I’m not sure where you think I’ll go,” I call after you.

Then I press my cheek against the beautifully upholstered sofa, and wait.

When I hear your returning footsteps, I look up.

_In the bedroom, I take out the second package I bought when you weren't looking - a latex suit for myself. They had a silly devil one in red with a tail that came with horns and a pitchfork that I briefly considered, but in the end I decided on classic black for both of us. I slowly, methodically work it on; manage to do it in eight minutes, but *without* tearing any seams. I look in the mirror - not bad, for a sixty-two-year-old. It helps that I have a fitness nut for a husband…_

_I wet my hair and slick it back, and apply some kohl around my eyes - it makes them stand out and I know you love how it looks._

_With a serious face, I walk back into the living room area._

I stare at you stunned, and then whistle appreciatively.

“Hello, stranger,” I drawl. “I’m expecting my husband back any moment, and I hope he’s going to pleasure me senseless. So as beautiful as you are in that slinky suit, you’d better clear off. He’s terribly jealous... and as you can see I’m in a compromising position...”

_"Oh no, beautiful man..." I reply in a fake Spanish accent, "I am not going anywhere. Your husband has been caught in traffic... and he sent me to take care of you. So thoughtful..."_

_I walk to the sofa, set myself onto your lap, move over your latex-trapped cock._

I struggle for a moment not to laugh at the unexpected accent - you could not look less Spanish if you tried. But soon laughter is the last thing on my mind as you’re in my lap, grinding against me.

“He did what?” I say breathlessly, looking up at you with wide eyes. “Oh that’s _so_ thoughtful. What a _sweet man_ ,” I groan as you pull my head back by the hair and lick my throat.

_"He said if you promised you'd be good, I could untie your hands... he gave me the key. So you could touch me all over..."_

_I get off you, untie your wrist cuffs._

“Oh, I’ll be good,” I say in a husky voice. “I’ll be _so good_. After all my husband has done for me, sending me this beautiful man to take care of my needs...” I run my hands over your latex-swathed body, eyeing you hungrily. “I do hope this isn’t some kind of test... where if I take advantage of this gift, I’ll be punished for touching another man?” I grasp your hips and pull you against my cock. “Because honestly this is just so _tempting_...” I say, moving my hips against yours.

_"Oh... I don't know... he seems like such a sweet man, I'm sure he'll understand... and of course he sent me to take care of you, and I wouldn't want to disappoint him... he seems a dangerous man to cross. Now... do you want to keep on your own suit, or would you prefer to touch me without?"_

“Oh, I think I’m ready to lose the suit,” I say, smiling lasciviously. “If you would be kind enough to help a gentleman out?”

_"But of course. Let me give you a hand," I smile, and get behind you to open the zip. Carefully rolling you out of the latex, I'm pleased to see the red lines on your bottom. I reach out, touch them._

_"Ohhh... those look painful."_

“Oh, they were...” I say with a smile. “My husband believes in firm discipline, as you can see...”

Your hands grasp my bottom and I breathe in deeply.

_"I'm sure you need it... you seem like an imposing figure; must take quite a man to keep you in check."_

I smile faintly, enjoying how you’re fondling my sore cheeks. “Oh you think I need to be kept in check, too? What on earth gives people that impression?” I turn around and look down at you, letting my hand trail down your catsuit.

_"Ah, you are so - how do I say this - *big*, and *strapping*, and you have something of - a wild animal about you. I wonder... how would you be with a man who would not impose such discipline? A small innocent man like myself?"_

I laugh low in my throat. _Small innocent man_... hah.

“It’s true what you say - I’ve been called a wild animal before...” I lean in towards you, and breathe in your scent. “But you have nothing to fear from me...” I whisper in your ear, and run my hands down along your torso and then over your bottom. “Do you have any ideas of how you can take care of me?” I breathe, and kiss your neck.

_"Your husband had some suggestions, yes... he said you like to have your cock kissed..." I move my pelvis over said cock. "Is that true?"_

“Mmm. Yes,” I breathe, closing my eyes at the sensation of the latex suit sliding against my cock. When I open them again, you’re watching me in fascination. “My husband is right. I rather do like having my cock kissed... and more,” I grin.

_"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow, lie down on you. "More?"_

"Well, a kiss is nice..." I say breathily. "But it seems a shame to stop there... don't you think?"

_"Ohhh, I see... you want me to lick you..." I lick my lips, "take you into my mouth, deeply... suck you?"_

My head falls back and I groan. "I really think that would be a good idea, yes..."

_"Say no more, beautiful man..." I smile, and slowly slide my way down your body, to where Little Seb is straining towards me._

_I lick my lips, then gently take you into my mouth, start slowly licking round your head._

My thighs part for you as you position yourself and slide your lips over my cock.

“Oh... god...” I say breathily. “I’ll have to thank my husband – profusely -” I gasp as your tongue works its wicked magic.

_"Mmm-mmm," I agree, making you shiver. I tease with long slow strokes until you are trembling and grasp my hair - here we go. I take you deep, start moving faster._

What you can do with your mouth is a dream, a revelation... it’s fucking poetry... and it’s leaving my body quivering against yours, leaving me breathless, moaning loudly...

and then with a gasp, my body spasms, breaking me into a thousand thousand shudders of ecstasy... GodYesJim _yes_ –

_Your orgasm is never less than a thing of utmost beauty. You come like you do everything - with gusto and abandon; throwing yourself into it, letting yourself be lost to the sensation..._

_I've always envied that. Not that my orgasms aren't great - but the way you can fully experience pleasure when it's there, without thinking of a million other things and potential outcomes, without always being a mind looking outward, is something to behold._

Shivering with the aftershocks of an epic orgasm, my head falls back towards the sofa.

“God,” I groan. “That was... _god_...”

My arms slide around your latex-covered body. “Mmm, thank you... I’m going to owe my husband for this...” I say, grinning up at the ceiling.

_"Oh, you do..." I growl in my normal voice, pull you close by the ring on your collar, kiss you deeply._

_"I love you, my Sebastian..."_

“God... I love you Jim... so much,” I sigh contentedly, and my arms tighten around you. “Let me know when you want out of this thing... not that you don’t feel wonderful...”

_"I kind of like how it feels, to be honest," I say. "And I loooved seeing you in it. Just as hot as when you were thirty-three..."_

“Mmm... well. Being the security of a criminal empire - and married partner in crime - requires top physical condition. I never know what feats will be asked of me for work or pleasure... _demanded_ of me, I should say...” I murmur, kissing your neck. “It’s gratifying that you’re so pleased with my commitment to excellence...”

_"For someone who's just been caned, you do like living on the edge," I growl. "You're *supposed* to wax lyrical about how hot *I* look in response..."_

I stifle a groan. God, how could I have been so forgetful?

“Oh Jim... forgive a foolish Tiger. I was so swept up in how hot this was - I had a gorgeous man draped over me and then giving me a blow job... looking absolutely stunning,” I murmur, my fingers skimming over your muscles and gorgeously pert arse. “I’m terribly sorry, darling... I wasn’t thinking clearly - but that’s because you’re so fucking hot and so _fucking beautiful...”_ I growl, my fingers digging into your arse. God, I hope that did the trick...

_"You're a great sweet-talker, Tiger..." I say sternly. You look sheepish. I chuckle._

_"I'll let you off if you talk sweet some more..."_

“Well, I could tell you how your body looks better in that suit than most people would in their 20’s... and how your lips make me quiver at the thought of you touching me with them... kissing me so hard...” I say in a rough purr. “And those eyes that make me want to drop to my knees as soon as you give me _the look_...”

_"Go on..." I purr, like a cat rolling on my back._

“The look that makes me hard in an instant...” I say in a husky voice as I stroke your latex-covered body. “I’m randy as hell around you _all the time_ … I have been the quintessential horny teenager in your presence for more than 25 years... god, what you do to me... and you _know it...”_ I say in a low rumble. “No one is more beautiful-sexy-terrifying... than you. And god, no one came close to you in bed... on the floor... in an alley... in a car... _on_ a car...” I say with a simmering smile. “You fuck like a dream... A dream that can go from hot to scary to blissful to deviantly delicious in a single act...” I shiver slightly at the memories that come streaming forth. “Mmm... I’m a lucky Tiger...”

_"And you best not forget it..." I growl softly, but smiling. "You're not too shabby yourself, my husband."_

_I stretch, feel my muscles remind me that I haven't done my exercises today._

_"How about some yoga, a luxurious shower, and a lazy day watching old films? I don't really feel like going out after yesterday... then tonight we can paint the town red in Jimmy's - it's Dance Classics Thursday; and I'm sure the DJ will be open to some good suggestions, if communicated in the right way..."_

I smile indulgently. “Sounds perfect...”

Yoga and the shower feel remarkably good after the international flight and the long day of outings. Then we have a ridiculously good time debating about which films to watch and whether or not there should be a theme. In the end you win (of course) but one of my choices does make the final cut.

When I cue up Ghostbusters, you sigh and shake your head. “Really doesn’t fit my _theme_ , Tiger...” you say pointedly.

“What? It’s old,” I grin. “And it has a scary villain, as you demanded...”

“Ah yes, Gozer the Gozerian... _terrifying_...” Your lips twist into a smile and you cross your arms as the film begins.

“They can’t all be you,” I remind you, sliding an arm around your shoulder.

“They wish,” you say loftily, and settle against my chest with a smug smile.

_"You want to go see the Ghostbusters building tomorrow? We can have a walk through Central Park... as long as you keep an eye on any hostile wildlife. And go to the Museum of Natural History? And the Met?"_

I stifle a groan. “How about... Ghostbusters building, Central Park... and the Museum of Natural History _or_ the Met? You did say you wanted to paint the town red tonight...”

_"We'll see how we feel tomorrow. Don't groan, Tiger - you love museums, don't you?"_

_"Sometimes... mostly when we're not attracting attention because you keep pointing out the errors in the descriptions..."_

_I humph. "You'd expect they'd be grateful. That last guard was just grumpy because he'd had a fight with his wife that morning."_

_"Yes, museum visits are much more peaceful when you don't point out people's recent quarrels either..."_

_"Tiger! You're no fun..."_

“Oh, I think we both know that’s not true...” I say, and ruffle your hair.

You stare at me aghast with hair askew, which makes me burst out laughing. The next thing I know I’m being tackled by an indignant Kitten, still laughing my arse off.

We end up on the floor - you attacking me with a sofa cushion - me lamenting wildly, and then pleading for mercy because I’m laughing so hard I can barely breathe. Thankfully you get distracted by the film, pointing out inconsistencies with the physics of the proton packs. We end up pulling down all the cushions and a couple of luxurious throws to build a lovely nest - you lie partly on me, so as not to aggravate your back, and I wrap my arms around you and listen happily as you chatter about what needs to be understood about the particle accelerators and crossing the streams.

I hold up my hand. “I’d be _very_ interested in crossing streams,” I say with a saucy wink, which gets me thwacked with a cushion again.

_"You're insatiable, Tiger..." I sigh. "Also - how would that work? It would take immaculate coordination - and make a mess. I'm sure there's Ghostbuster porn on the internet, if you're interested..."_

_After Ghostbusters we're cosy and dozy, so have a cat nap, me comfortably nestled in your arms._

When we wake up, it’s time to get ready for dinner and our evening at Jimmy’s.

I stare at my cupboard. “What are you wearing? A suit, or-?”

_"Mmm. And you're wearing your latex and collar."_

_You look at me aghast, and I laugh. "I'm joking, darling... I wouldn't. Well, I *would*, it's true. But I won't. I was thinking my new Armani shirt and jacket - you wear whatever you like."_

Well, I never wear a suit if you’re not expecting or desiring it... so I pull out my stealth-themed ensemble for an evening out - leather coat, black mock-turtleneck, black trousers, black boots.

Perfect for an assassin -

\- or for a slick look for a date -

or for an assassin on a date with his husband, as is the case.

Of course this particular assassin is waiting for the date to start, as his husband takes three times as long to get ready - if the assassin is lucky.

“Ready when you are,” I call out unnecessarily, throwing myself onto the sofa. “Aaaanytime...”

I chuckle when I hear your retort from behind the bathroom door, and scan my email messages on my phone.

_My hair will *not* behave no matter how I try to scowl it into submission. I finally just slick it back and glue it into place with a load of hair spray._

_I am grumpy when I leave the bathroom, viewed by a Tiger sprawled over the white sofa - oh. Very pretty Tiger sprawled over the white sofa._

_I do try to get you to dress up, but given a free - paw, you usually stick with your classic black bad boy look - and I have to say, it does look good on you. Makes your eyes stand out._

_But then, you look good in anything. I need to make an *effort*._

_I put on my new suit, look at myself in the mirror critically - yes, it is a very good fit. I decide to go casual - no tie, the top buttons open, my new sunglasses on my head. I adjust the shoulders - that will do._

_I strut into the living room, snap my fingers._

When you make your entrance, I’m already straightening up - and when I hear the snap, I’m on my feet before I know it. _God_ , you have me well trained... and it wasn’t even all this time together; I was like this from the very beginning with you...

and no bloody wonder...

I look you up and down as I join you.

“Oh... my... _someone’s_ going to dazzle tonight...” I purr. “You look... mmnh. Good enough to eat...” I nip your neck as my arm slides around your waist.

_"I have to, to get anyone to look at me when I walk next to you," I say, rubbing my cheek against your shoulder. "You do look good in black, Tiger..."_

_In the lift, I look at us in the mirror. Not too bad. And the best thing is the way you look at me... the way you've always looked at me. Like I'm the only person in the world. I mean, I *am* the only person in this lift - but - you always make me feel revered, admired, loved._

_I reach out, and your hand comes up, meets mine._

_"Ready to show the kids how it's done, Tiger?"_


	10. The Twilight Aristocracy

I smirk. “There aren’t _many_ fine examples I can provide to younger generations... that wouldn’t get them arrested, killed, or sucked into a life of vice. But how criminals in love do a night on the town? Seems safe enough, right baby?”

The lift doors swish open as we grin at each other.

“Following your lead, darling...” I purr. “With the utmost pleasure...”

You lead me across the chic, gleaming lobby towards Jimmy’s. As we approach the doors, I hear the muted sounds of bass and laughter. The energy shifts and I sense all the potential that exists in spaces with booze and music - a shifting field of possibilities that can manifest sex, violence, mayhem, and brazen reckless _fun_. Even if we only have a taste of it from a distance, it’s still _intoxicating_...

Breathing it in, I smile. “After you, my love...”

_We walk in to some early 2000s tune that I only vaguely recognize. The place is reasonably filled, with upper-middle-society - not quite celebrity-tier, but definitely everyone here is attractive, well-dressed, and either wealthy or willing to spend a lot on a night out. I spot the party girls clocking us, probably classing us in the 'rich blokes who can show us a good time' category - sorry, ladies. I'm sure you're all lovely, but I'll bet none of you can dance like my Tiger._

_I lean against a high table as you go to get us drinks - a lager and a rum and coke - and look over the dance floor. Mostly filled with aforementioned party girls, the guys standing around watching them and trying to look cool. When they get drunker, they'll join the girls, but it's still early; though a few lads are giving it a sporting try._

_You drop off the drinks with a wink and walk off again - I see you chatting with the DJ, shaking his hand - I'd wager that hand wasn't empty. Ohhh, what did you order, you devious darling?_

I look at you innocently as I walk back.

“What did you say? To play better music or he’ll meet with an accident?” you say hopefully.

“I made him an offah he couldn’t refuse,” I say in my best New York mobster accent.

You chuckle. “Should we look up some of my contacts while we’re here? See what trouble we can get into?”

“Who needs mafiosos to get into trouble?” I grin, and drain half the lager. “The night is still young...”

_"I much prefer to get into trouble without mafiosi," I wave. "They make *such* a drama out of everything..."_

_You laugh much too loud at that. "Thank goodness you are above all that..."_

_I huff. "Too many drama queens spoil the broth. There can only be one prima donna."_

“Hear, hear! All hail the drama queen,” I clink your glass with my bottle before raising it to my lips.

Then the song changes. And your eyes light up.

I smile as I drink my lager.

_Here is a little story that I made up_

_So Let's make believe_

_Four years ago I had a party_

_That was too much fun for me_

“Aww, how did you know, Tiger?” you ask, batting your eyelashes.

“Lucky guess,” I say and stroke your face.

_Boy there's a sexy guy_

_He said he'd give me everything I need_

_Sometimes I let temptation go too far_

_And get the best of me_

“The playlist for painting the town red _always_ includes Britney,” you inform me loftily.

“I think Ms Spears would approve...” I neck the rest of my lager, and hold out my hand, smiling seductively.

_I take your hand and let you lead me to the dance floor._

I'm just a crazy kind of girl

I'll tell it to the world

I've just begun having my fun (yeah)

_You start moving your hips in a decidedly suggestive manner and I gleam, strutting my own stuff slightly restrained, enjoying the Tiger moves for now._

We definitely have eyes on us. Some women seem awww, and some are more ooooh. There’s also a man who’s not paying attention to his female date, and staring at us in fascination.

I grin at you and sauntering closer.

_The conversation was going nowhere 'til I turned my hair_

_He started touching me and kissing me_

_Like he didn't care_

I brush against you with my back against your chest and my arse against your pelvis.

Then I turn around and grab you by the hips, grinding against you.

_All I gotta say is_

_I just wanna have some fun_

_And I'll do it until I'm done_

_I'm telling you_

_You are a great dancer. Anything physical comes so natural to you - you just think you want your body to do something and it does it. I know you had lessons when you were younger, but that was ballroom, and they definitely will not have taught you this. This is just you - you expressing the music and your feelings in movement._

_When the song ends, people are looking at us, and you grin a wide grin as the next one starts_.

There's only two types of people in the world:

The ones that entertain, and the ones that observe

Well, baby, I'm a put on-a-show kind of girl

Don't like the back seat, gotta be first

_Oh yes - that's me._

_In a flash, the energy has shifted. I'm moving purposefully, and you're orbiting me._

I'm like the ring leader, I call the shots

(Call the shots)

I'm like a firecracker I make it hot

When I put on a show

I glance up at our audience - the woman on a date is looking annoyed while trying to get the attention of the guy who’s staring at us intently with his mouth partly open.

I give her a sly smile, and now she’s paying no attention whatsoever to the guy next to her.

Chuckling I return to my gaze to the beautiful man who’s cleared a wide space on the floor by virtue of being Jim...

_All eyes on me in the center of the ring, just like a circus_

_When I crack that whip everybody gonna trip, just like a circus_

With a subtle flick of your wrist toward your palm, you emulate a whipping motion, and I lick my lips at you.

_Don't stand there watching me, follow me, show me what you can do_

_Everybody let go, we can make a dance floor just like a circus_

I stalk towards you, as you spin around a makeshift ring. You stop in front of the man and unleash a look at him, and he leans back in his chair so far he nearly falls backwards. Throwing my head back, I laugh - then I grab your hand and wrap an arm around your waist, spinning you around the floor.

_There's only two types of guys out there_

_Ones that can hang with me and ones that are scared_

_So, baby, I hope that you came prepared_

_I run a tight ship so beware_

As we slow down, you run a finger warningly down my face and over my lips. When I give it a playful nip, you dance away and I saunter after you.

_After the triple Britney (Toxic as the inevitable closer) we are treated to three Queen songs, during which the dance floor has largely become our stage, with a few people dancing on the edges, but mostly looking at us and cheering us on. When Killer Queen ends with you on your knees before me and me striking a pose that would have Freddie taking notes, we're exhausted but elated._

We find a table off to the side, and sit down, panting and grinning at each other. A server arrives at our table, and I order more of the same, and a glass of water, for each of us.

"There are eyes on us..." I remark to you, and smile slyly. "As I'm sure you're well aware..."

_"As there should be," I say loftily. "We're the best dancers in the room."_

_I notice most of the party girls have focussed their attention elsewhere - it's quite clear we are only interested in each other. Especially after that steamy routine we did to Don't Stop Me Now._

_I knock the water back in a big gulp when it comes. "Another - no, bring a bottle. Two," I tell the server. You need to rehydrate too._

“You know who’s living in New York now?” I ask you, and take a swig of water from the bottle. “Lady Graves...” I say, with an arched eyebrow.

“Oh, _Victoria_ ,” you say, smiling in amusement. “How is the dear Lady?”

“Well - despite her third marriage having just ended, she’s having a grand time in life, I take it... I did contact her to see about arranging a visit while we’re here. But she’s so busy flitting about from event to event, she couldn’t make time for her old friends. After everything you did for her!” I feign indignation, and tip my bottle of beer into my mouth.

“Well, it was hardly out of the kindness of my heart. She did pay pots and pots of money,” you remind me.

“Yes, and she more than made up for that with everything she gained... well, I’m disappointed, I have to say. We haven’t seen her for a few years - surely meeting for a quick drink wouldn’t have put a catastrophic dent in her social calendar...”

_"I'm appalled that *anyone* would blow off Jim and Sebastian Moriarty," I pout. Victoria is one of the few people that I actually like - I would have enjoyed seeing her. She's ruthless, over the top, gorgeous, and bitchy - hm. Wonder who she reminds me of..._

My brow furrows. "Yeah..." I say slowly. "I wouldn't have expected that. Well, who knows maybe the latest divorce is affecting her more than she'd like to admit..."

The server approaches holding a tray with a magnum of champagne and three flutes. Why is he heading towards us with a bemused expression on his face?

"We didn't order that, mate," I say politely.

"It was ordered for you..." he says carefully. "With a - message -" he hesitates.

"Alright - what?" I ask, my patience thinning.

"The message is that it's to celebrate the impending _ménage à trois_..." he says, wincing.

I choke out a laugh. _"What?"_

"I'm sorry, Sir. From the lady at the bar."

My head swivels on my neck like a key. My eyes seek out which party girl at the bar is so clueless as to assume we would have any interest in a threesome with a woman. And then I see -

"How kind," you say with a sly smile.

"Put it down," I say to the server, grinning. Then I wave the lady over, and she feigns surprise. Her mouth forms the word 'Me?', batting her eyelashes. Then she stands majestically before sashaying towards the table.

_We both get up as she walks towards us; a vision in a purple dress (Valentino), perfectly accessorized. She's had some more work done, I see - she always has small and subtle adjustments made, so it's hardly noticeable; she just seems perpetually thirty. Maybe edging towards forty now._

_"Victoria," I exclaim in delight. "You look *stunning* - let me see that *dress* - is that the spring collection?"_

_"Summer, darling," she chides me. "Angelo owed me a favour - you look simply *smashing* yourself. Black suits you - *rakish* cut..."_

She swoops towards you, kissing you on each cheek, and then enveloping you in a hug. I watch, smiling. It never ceases to amuse me how swimmingly you two get along - you, who can barely tolerate anyone. And how much you both playfully flirt with each other. After all, Victoria was a girl my parents wanted me to marry - back in the dark ages, when I was still living under their roof and I had yet to make my escape to the army...

Her pale blue eyes turn to me. “Sebastian Moran,” she chides. “Are you just going to stand there gawping, or are you going to give me a hug? You haven’t seen me in years, and after all, I’m the one who got away...”

I laugh out loud at this, and then the air is squeezed from my lungs as she hugs me fiercely.

She huffs, but there’s mischief in her eyes. “You always were _terrible_ at being a gentleman,” she sniffs, and pushes me away.

“Fucking right I was,” I say cheerfully. “That’s why I left behind the coattails and never looked back...”

“And then you met me, and I took you to my tailor immediately,” you say loftily.

Victoria claps with delight. “Quite right, darling... most men need strict supervision, don’t they - or they run amok like feckin’ savages...”

“Why do I always feel like you two are joining forces to take the piss out of me?” I ask mildly.

“Do shut up, darling,” she chirps and kisses me on the cheek. Then she looks down at the two chairs at our table, and back at me indignantly.

“Won’t you sit down, Lady Graves?” I say gallantly, and head off to find a third chair. As I do, I notice a couple of tables with party girls are staring at Victoria in dismay - not only did she accomplish the seemingly impossible by getting an invitation to our table, but she’s ten times hotter and more radiant than they are - and being close to my age, she’s several decades older... but there’s no way they would guess that.

When I return to the table with a chair, you and Victoria are sniggering away as she pops the champagne bottle, spraying you both. Your heads turn as the cork go flying across the room - watching it sailing over a table, making people gasp in alarm, and leaving you both giggling madly.

“Aren’t they supposed to open that for the clientele so that doesn’t happen?” I ask wryly.

She shrugs one shoulder elegantly. “And yet I seem to get what I want,” she says innocently, and then nudges you. “A terrible lot in life isn’t it, my dear?”

_"Isn't it just? Such a weight on one's shoulders, to have one's every whim catered to by handsome strong men," I wink at you, slightly mollifying you._

_You always seem a bit taken aback at how well Victoria and I get on, especially considering she had her sights on you in the past, *and* you fucked - usually something that puts people in my bad books. But she's hilarious, and the furthest thing from a threat to your marital fidelity I could imagine._

_"So darlings, what brings you to New York?" she asks, clasping my hand. "Is it a spectacular heist that I will read about in the papers?"_

_I chuckle. "Not quite - it's our second honeymoon, to celebrate our twenty-fifth anniversary..."_

_Her hand flies to her mouth. "You're right! That's this November, isn't it!? Oh!! How wonderful! I can't believe it - twenty-five years! Oh, you two; sweet romantic things - who'd have ever believed it..."_

“Considering how we started? No one could have foreseen it - including us. _Especially_ us... “ I say, shaking my head. You squeeze my hand, and our eyes lock. We stare intently at each other, smiling.

Victoria sighs theatrically. “You’re both wretched examples of heartless criminals, you know... if word got out about how _ridiculously romantic_ you are...”

“Oh don’t worry, we hide our little secret well...” I grin. “Heartless criminals when the situation calls for it. The rest of the time - hopeless romantics.”

Victoria presses her hand to her chest. “Jaisus... you’ll make this heartless socialite start crying in public, and I will never forgive you,” she pouts, then busies herself pouring the champagne. “Let’s toast... to being madly in love,” she says, and holds up her glass.

You’re looking at her closely. “Congratulations...” you say with a smirk.

“For what?” I ask looking back and forth between you.

“Oh nothing... our little Victoria is in love,” you say airily, and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

“Darling! Spoiling my surprise...” she says, feigning indignation. “No one can keep a secret around you, can they...”

“They can try...” Your lips curl into a satisfied smile.

“Will wonders never cease...” I say, grinning. “When did this happen? Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Before the third marriage ended. Good riddance to that one,” she says, waving her hand. “He’s a dear photographer friend who has no title, no fortune, no properties around the world... but he loves to salsa dance and cook and travel... he makes me laugh, and the most important thing - he thinks I’m the most wonderful woman he’s ever met. And for once in my life, I’m not thinking about money or prestige... I’m just - happy.” She shakes her head in disbelief and purses her lips. “Jaisus, listen to me. You two have been a _terrible_ influence...”

_"Us?! Never!_

_So, he's a photographer - does he take *amazing* pictures of you?"_

_She blushes, grins._

_"*Any at all* that are safe to show us?" I exclaim, semi-shocked._

_"Oh, let me have a look..." Her smile is a mile wide as she swipes through her phone, conspicuously clicking the SFW filter. I roll my eyes. "Naughty girl..."_

_She laughs, clearly delighted, and holds out her phone to show us. Picture after picture of her in gorgeous dresses and at magnificent backdrops, but in between are ones that show her in ways that I've never seen her - on a hike in the Catskills, windswept and rosy-cheeked, laughing at something; genuinely laughing, not worrying about crow's feet or her best angle. Another sees her in the morning in a bed, the golden sunlight on her face without make-up, a sleepy smile aimed at the photographer - such a sweet and intimate moment._

_I look at her - she is genuinely happy. Our cynical, mercenary Victoria -_

_Well - I guess if it could happen to me, it can happen to anyone. And I'm delighted it happened to her._

"I've had the _best_ idea... You'll of course have photographs taken while you're in town!" she declares, clapping her hands. "My anniversary gift to you... naughty or nice. Or both," she winks. "And I know the _perfect_ photographer, who's both..."

I blink at this. Photographs? We've done them before, of course. You're an utter narcissist and you can't get enough gorgeous photos of yourself with your husband on your arm. But it's been ages... and it would be nice to have something that reflects this phase in our lives...

"I'm game if you are," I say with a shrug. You tap your fingers to your lips with a smile. Oh god... this isn't going to be a big production, is it? Now what am I in for?

I shoot a look at Victoria, and she laughs wickedly. "Darlings, we still haven't toasted, and I've waited long enough for my champagne," she says, and holds up her glass. "To being madly in love! And the photos to prove it," she says with a wink.

_Oooooooohhhh, a photo shoot... what shall I wear... where shall we have it... the Rockefeller Center - no, the Chrysler building - the Bryant Park? Why not all of them. Some in classic 1930s gangster outfits? Ohhh... I have to get some proper tommy guns... some props -_

_what?_

_Oh yes - champagne._

_"To love!" I say, raising my glass._

“To love,” I echo. We clink glasses and sip the champagne, which is of course excellent. Victoria didn’t social-climb her way to the top without gaining a serious fortune.

I look at you, already staring off dreamily again.

“Aright... what am I going to end up wearing?” I ask wryly. “I’m sure you have several themes in mind by now...”

You gaze at me innocently, and I turn to Victoria who’s already drained her glass.

“Thank you so much for the thoughtful gift,” I say graciously, as I pour her more champagne. Out of the corner of my mouth I mutter, “Whatever happens, I’m holding you responsible...”

“Mmm, if there are any x-rated ones, I’m happy to take the blame... and a couple of photos of course,” she says, winking at you before taking another sip of the bubbling liquid.

_You and I being rival gangster bosses... Victoria as a nice moll - she'll look great. I capture you, torture you in a tastefully derelict warehouse – you give me lip - sparks fly..._

_"Sorry?" I believe I heard my name._

I groan. “Not just themes... _storylines_ ,” I correct myself. “We’ll need a couple of days to find the requisite costumes, props and locations...”

Victoria’s eyes light up. “ _That’s_ how to do it, darling,” she says smugly. “Go big or go home...”

“Well we’re not going home yet, so... Big it is,” I sigh, and drink more.

“Always a plus in my books,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll let my Jakey know the shoot will be in, what, three days?”

Your brow furrows. Lord... somehow I’ll have to convince you not to spend the entire time in production mode - sourcing materials and _storyboarding_...

“Jim?” I say patiently. “Does that work for you?”

_"Three days? Sure, that works," I calculate. "I'll get the setting arranged, and the props - do you have any good contacts?"_

_*Of course* Victoria has contacts... She gives me the details of a theatre company that should be able to arrange the costumes and props and any extras we need, and a location hunter who will get us access to the Art-Deco cream of the New York crop. You smile when you hear my 30s gangsters idea - god knows what you thought I'd dreamed up..._

I was expecting to be coaxed into something skintight and provocative. Which I’m more than happy to do for you - Lord knows I’ve stripped for you often enough, and you’ve taken plenty of photos and videos of me in various compromising outfits and positions...

But in front of a photographer? Well, I suppose I’m enough of an exhibitionist that it wouldn’t bother me...

30’s gangsters, however... Now that sounds like _fun_...

And I suppose if you want my gangster character to be divested of his carefully selected costume, I’ll find out soon enough...

I sit and drink a lager, as you and Victoria throw back champagne, discuss ideas for the photo shoot, and laugh madly.

Christ... this is not what I pictured doing on our anniversary trip, but - god, do you look excited. When you catch my eye, I grin and lift my glass to you.

_The next days are a busy blur of planning, location scouting, costume fitting, and of course the normal museum, show, and restaurant visits._

_Victoria introduces us to her photographer boyfriend, and she's *adorable*. I've never seen her like this with any of her previous husbands and boyfriends - there she was always very much in control, playing the role she had assigned herself. Also, of course she never revealed who we were. Jake doesn't get the full story, but he is introduced to 'my *darling* friends Jim and Sebastian, who used to be a bit naughty, but they're adorable, really'. She seems so herself - she's clearly in love, and they're touching and giggling and smiling at each other in a way that has nothing to do with play-acting. It's really cute; makes me smile._

_Jake shows us some of his award-winning work - it's good, really. He doesn't specialize in portraits, but in animal photography, which is how I prefer to take in my nature - safely on a screen. He has some tiger pictures which are really really lovely, and I buy one from him for in the Guarida._

When Jake excuses himself to go to the bathroom, I lean in towards Victoria. "Jesus, you two are fucking adorable," I say, to which she flushes and waves me off.

"Stop," she says, rolling her eyes, but her smile could light up the room if there was a blackout.

"Imagine what a disaster it would have been if we had been betrothed like our parents were pushing for?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

Her eyes widen in horror. "You would have been my first divorce. And something tells me we would _not_ have been friends after..."

"Probably not," I say cheerfully. "Considering I thought you were a right bitch."

"Oh I was, darling! But then _you_ were an arrogant fuckboy," she says sweetly.

"Now, now," you interject, grinning madly. "Play nice..."

Jake returns at that point, and doesn't bat an eye at the faces we're pulling at each other. He just kisses Victoria, and whispers, "I missed you,", making her beam. And soon she's chatting happily about our upcoming photo shoot, and he's gazing at her and smiling. God - he's perfect for her.

When we arrive at Rockefeller Center, we get out of the car already in 1930's mobster gear. Which causes quite a stir with the passers-by... which of course you _love_...

We make our way through the gorgeous lobby, and find Jake and Victoria waiting for us in the Foyer with the camera and lighting equipment already set up. Her eyes light up as she sees us swaggering in.

"You - look - _perfect!"_ she shrieks, covering her mouth. "Jake!! Don't they look _perfect??"_

_I've explained my plan to Jake, but told Victoria and you only what you need to know - it'll be more genuine when you don't know what's coming._

_Victoria looks absolutely stunning in a golden flapper dress, smoking a fake cigarette - we're allowed dry ice but no real smoke, and it wasn't worth the hassle to argue. You and I are in suits and fedoras; hired extras fill the room as waiters, bodyguards with the iconic tommy guns, two call girls smoking at the bar._

_We start outside, with me and my bodyguard getting out of a gorgeous Jaguar SS 100 Roadster, two doormen at the magnificent doors. Then we continue with a meeting in the breathtaking Grand Foyer, you and Victoria as a gangster boss and his wife, me as a negotiating partner; Jake shooting from many angles and distances to get both us and the opulent surroundings. First contact is wary; I'm obviously being lippy, and you are getting annoyed and shouting, making the people around nervous._

_Negotiations continue in the more intimate but equally stunning Roxy Suite, with the gold leaf ceiling giving the light an amazing quality, according to Jake. It's just us three and our bodyguards now, and things get heated - coats are off so our braces and shirt garters are visible, crystal tumblers with bourbon are held in gesticulating hands. There is what I think is going to be a magnificent shot of you and me standing almost nose to nose staring each other down, you furious and me with a vicious smile, with the magnificent cherry-panelling behind us._

_Then - oh shock and betrayal! My bodyguard shoots yours - blood on the cherry wood - and Victoria pulls a tiny revolver out of her handbag and points it at you._

I’m not as gifted an actor as you, but I know how to throw myself into a role. It’s been mainly for work, although there have certainly been a few ‘scenarios’ over the years - where we met somewhere as strangers, or you completely surprised me by appearing in another country as a character, when I thought you were back home. Then you’d be even more unpredictable than ever, because I couldn’t even rely on my knowledge of your patterns.

God, when I think of some of those fucks, wild, urgent, reckless... my whole body is in flames at the thought. But sometimes the stolen moments would be like two ships passing in the night - utterly romantic and filled with longing.

But this - this is different than all those times. For one thing, other people are involved. There are sets, props... it feels more like a play - living, breathing theatre, spilling off the stage and into something closer to life. Because maybe this could have happened in different circumstances - if I had taken another more ambitious direction in my life of crime, it’s plausible I could have found myself climbing and killing my way to the top.

And then - facing this upstart, would sparks not fly?

And would you not use your genius to outfox me in unimaginable ways?

I stare at Victoria, stunned.

“Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me-“ I snarl.

“Sorry, _dollface_ ,” she snaps. “You should have been a little nicer to me...”

I start to laugh. Long and hard. Until actual tears come to my eyes.

I turn my gaze to you, and start to clap slowly.

“Well played... fucker,” I growl.

_You look utterly furious - you're really getting into the part. I love this - I always love acting, and when it's just for *fun* but there will be amazing pictures to come out of it, it's even greater. And now for the *really* interesting bit..._

_My bodyguard handcuffs you and drags you to the waiting car, as Victoria and I exchange a promising kiss. The car heads to a warehouse district where there's *the* most beautiful 30's dilapidated building that you are manhandled into. My bodyguard and I follow. Victoria is with her boyfriend, but no longer appears in the photo shoot - it's just us now, my love..._

_You are tied to a chair, as I lean against a nearby crate, smoking. Properly this time._

_"My my Mr Moran... how the tables have turned."_

“Aww... You must be feeling _so_ fucking pleased with yourself,” I drawl. “You’ll go far with those brains, kid. And who knows, maybe you’ll even live to enjoy it... for a while,” I say with a smirk.

I may be beaten, but I can still have a little fun...

_"Oh, I *will*," I smile. "Whether *you* will is another matter..."_

_I reach out my hand and my bodyguard hands me a shining sharp knife. I walk over to you, press the point into your throat, lean really closely into you._

_"Let's see what you're made of, shall we?"_

I laugh low in my throat.

“That’s cute, Moriarty... but if you _really_ wanted to know, I suppose you’d have to untie me.” I smile at you, aware of the dangerous glint in my eye.

_I laugh at that, and the camera clicks. "I'm not *stupid*, Moran... it's well known you're an ex-soldier and a boxer - I wouldn't untie you until you're a bit... tenderized..."_

_Now it's my eyes that gleam. Prisoner Moran and Sebastian Moriarty look back at me... challenging me to do my worst..._

_I put the knife under the collar of your shirt, slash it open, then do the same with your undershirt. The tip just catches the skin of your chest, which starts bleeding. Victoria gasps - oh darling - but you don't flinch._

Oh _hel_ lo, darling...

Well, whatever follows this, the photos are going to be fascinating... and I suspect they won’t end up above the mantelpiece.

I look up from my bleeding chest to you. “You need your meat to be tender, do you? That’s so sweet...” I lift up my chin, grinning. “I’m waiting...”

_I smile at you. Jake is right beside us, capturing our faces, occasionally giving a direction - 'Jim, could you lift your chin a little bit so you catch the light - *perfect*', which oddly enough doesn't disrupt the flow at all - it's like we're both acting and role-playing and we're in deep, moving in an intricate dance, occasionally adjusting the moves to fit with Jake's suggestions._

_Your chest is bare, you're looking at me, snarky, challenging. I smile, pop off your braces, then squat in front of your left ankle, tied to the leg of the chair, cut the trousers - a crying shame, they looked great on you - I'll have to get you some other ones - all the way to the top, then do the same with the other leg. The cloth drops away, revealing period-accurate underwear - you must have suspected things would go R-rated when I insisted on that._

Well, that didn’t take long, to get me nearly naked...

Suppressing a chuckle, I tilt my head and regard you. I’ll make my barely contained amusement work...

“Oh, I had a _feeling_ about you, Moriarty... do you like what you see?” I drawl.

_"A *feeling*, did you? What, you think that I'm one of the twilight aristocracy, dropping pins?"_

_You look puzzled. What, don't know your 1930s New York gay slang? I'm disappointed, darling..._

_"No one's doing any *feeling* but me, sweetheart..." I lean in, lick the little bit of blood that's come out of the cut on your chest._

Mmm...

Nope, stay in character, Seb... the crime boss wouldn’t get all swoony right away, would he?

Oh god, you’re licking me again...

_Focus!_

“You can drop as many pins as you want, _sweetheart_...” I mutter. “But you’re not going to get to _me_...”

_Victoria, the lighting guy, Jake, the bodyguard - they've all disappeared. All there is is you and me, and a disembodied voice sometimes making a suggestion._

_"Big words from a man tied to a chair... a man, though, who's spent some time tied to a chair before, judging from the scars... what is one more, you must think, don't you?"_

“Every scar you see is another fucked-up situation I’ve survived... I can’t say the same thing of those who crossed me...” I sneer. “But since you’re looking so intrigued by what you see... you’re welcome to test your luck, Moriarty...”

That came out a bit breathier than a gangster would be, strictly speaking. And rather more suggestive...

_"Welcome, am I?" I grin. "And here I thought I would have to fight for this..." I move closer, lean over you, put my face close to yours. "Are you perhaps... curious as to what your wife saw in me?"_

“No more curious about that than whatever she saw in every other Tom, Dick, and Harry she got ‘friendly’ with... did you really think you were the only one?” I say with an arrogant smile. A distinctly feminine snort sounds in the background.

“Or did you think it was true love?” I bat my eyelashes at you. “Never figured you for such a _romantic_...”

_I laugh. "Of course it was! All that time spent trying to woo her... most have taken me, oh, at least an hour," I chuckle. "No, my darling... I kept my eye on the *prize*..."_

_I stroke the knife across your jaw as I move closer. "And such a beautiful gold medal it is..."_

I shiver at the blade across my jaw, and my eyelids flutter closed for just an instant. I have such intense memories of you with a knife, my body can’t help but respond...

I steel myself to stay calm... scathing and amused is what we’re going for, with a hint of suppressed fury.

“I’m the prize, am I...” I say, my eyes rising to meet yours. “You really know how to make a fella feel special...”

_"Oh, I *do*..." I purr._

_"So, Mr Moran, you're at my mercy... one flick of my knife and I could kill you. My question to you is... why shouldn't I?"_

“No reason I can see,” I say cheerfully. Your eyes _gleam_ and a thrill flashes through me. God, this is so what this scenario would have been like...

The first few years of our relationship _was_ like this - balancing on the edge of a knife, never knowing which day would be my last...

“ _Unless_ ,” I say, as though remembering something.

“Unless?” you reply in a low purr, your eyes growing darker by the moment.

Jesus... my body temperature shoots up at the sight.

“I’m a powerful man, Moriarty... with skills you can’t even imagine... perhaps you would find them of value. Since you’re hell-bent on reaching the top...” I say in a low rough voice. “We could come to some... arrangement.” Then I shrug and smile at you ferally. “Or you could just kill me right now.”

_"Oh, a powerful man indeed... I *could* of course kill you and take over your firm... but it *might* indeed be easier to pull you in. But..." I tap the tip of the knife to my lips, pondering. "How do I know I can trust you?"_

I let out a husky laugh. “You don’t. Of course you don’t... I suppose you’d have to keep me on a short leash of sorts... threatening to harm my beloved wife if I cross you?” I suggest, giving you a comical expression of concern.

I hear another snort in the background.

“Or whatever you think is appropriate... Now that you’re the Boss...” My voice caresses the last word, and our eyes lock.

_"Oh am I, Mr Moran..?" I purr, leaning closer. I can see your eyes go large and dark at my expression - such familiar energy... but will Jakey be able to capture it on film?_

_"So if I'm the Boss... does that mean I can do with you *whatever* I like?" I lick my lips._

I glance down at the ropes tying me to the chair, and back up at you. “Well, you’re certainly the Boss at the moment...” I say languidly.

I flex my arms outwards, feeling the ropes taut against me. “What did you have in mind?” I give you a lazy smile.

_I flash the knife downward, making even you flinch, grasp your pants, cut them through, then do the same at the other side. Your cock, semi-erect, happily comes into view._

_"I *see*..." I nod._

I have no idea what you told Jake might transpire, but I knew to be ready for anything... so here I am at a photo shoot, naked and tied to a chair.

Victoria must be thrilled, I think wryly.

“Must be the stress of the moment,” I drawl. “You know... situations of life-or-death, winner takes all... makes guys react in all kinds of funny ways...”

_"Oh, is that what it is..." I smile. "How disappointing... here I thought you had... *potential*."_

“Potential...? For what?” My voice grows slightly husky, and I look up at you with half-closed eyes.

_"Ohh, are you asking what I can see in you?" I purr into your ear. "Let me tell you, Mr Moran... or may I call you... *Sebastian*?"_

“As you’ve reminded me, I’m the one tied to a chair... so call me what you like,” I say in a purring growl. “OK, I’ll bite - what do you see in me?” My bravado is offset by shivers as you smile at me fiercely.

_"Ah, Se*bas*tian..." I smile, then start walking around you. "I see a man covered in scars - obviously one who is not afraid to enter into the heat of battle himself, rather than letting his employees do it. This must have earnt you some respect with your people. A man who is not afraid to get his hands dirty._

_But, some of those scars are from torture, some serious. So you are someone who doesn't budge under torture - a man of principles and loyalty._

_You're muscular; you like to keep yourself fighting fit, even when you're at the top of the pecking order. You have excellent taste in clothes - or does your good lady wife pick those out? Speaking of your Mrs... you seemed awfully unconcerned with her betrayal of you and her flirtations with me. Is it not True Love that brought you together, but her connections, I wonder?"_

_I stand still in front of you. "So far what anyone can see. But I can see something more, Sebastian... I see a man who has been tied down by his most powerful rival, who has a knife in his hand and a bodyguard with a gun. A man who had his clothes cut off and his skin cut open; who should be feeling scared, vulnerable, angry._

_Yet what do we have? A snarky mouth, an inviting pose, and a cock who, even now the newness of the danger has worn off, shows no inclination of going into hiding. What an *interesting* attitude for a man in your position..._

_What I think, Sebastian, is that you are a tiiiiny bit addicted to danger. You love dancing on the edge of life and death, it makes you feel alive... And you see me, you see death himself, dancing with you."_

_I lean closer, sniff your neck. "Not a trace of fear... but some *interesting* pheromones..._

_Because it's not just the danger, is it..." I purr into your ear, making the hairs in the back of your neck rise. "You are curious about me... you've heard the rumours, and you've wondered... wondered what it would be like..._

_What it would be like, for once in your life, to surrender to a man more dangerous than you... to lie there, helpless and vulnerable, as you are used and taken..._

_*Haven't you,* Sebastian..."_

God, with your eyes on me and your voice doing that mesmerizing thing you do, I feel myself slowly falling into a trance as you speak... But wait, should my character be getting angry or threatening or...

No.

 _Fuck_ , no.

Sebastian Moran, no matter if he were a sniper or a crime boss or a posh fucking lord, would _always_ respond this way to Jim Moriarty...

My eyes close as you lean closer to breathe in my scent.

_It’s not just the danger, is it..._

No, it’s fucking not...

_To lie there, helpless and vulnerable, as you are used and taken..._

Oh, fuck...

Dimly I remember that there are other people in the room. Just how far are you going to go, Jim?

And how far do I want this to go?

There’s only ever one answer... and it’s surrender.

“Even if it were true...” I breathe. “You might find the terrain rough... and not so easy to conquer... Jim.”

My eyes open and I hold your stare.

_I lick my lips as I look you up and down. "Now, I could just tie you over this chair... but where would be the fun in that? It's much more... satisfying... to conquer without guns and threats... using just words... and the power of will."_

_I cut through the ropes tying your wrists to the chair, then lean down and cut the ones around your ankles._

_"That's better..."_

_Oh_... the crime boss is free... but also falling under the thrall of Moriarty.

I stretch out my arms and circle my wrists, but I don’t get up.

“Bold move...” I say in a rough purr.

_"I'm a bold man..." I smile, "a bold man with an armed bodyguard. I'm not *stupid*, Sebastian..._

_But if he weren't here... what would you do?"_

I flick my eyes at your ‘security’ standing at a distance. “If I didn’t have to disarm your bodyguard, then - I would deal with you directly. Frisk you for weapons, to start...” I look you up and down. “Very thoroughly...”

_"I'm holding a knife... doesn't need very thorough frisking."_

“Well, you wouldn’t have it for long...” I shrug. “But of course I’d want to make sure you didn’t have any other surprises tucked away...”

_"You would *overwhelm* me? *Really*, Sebastian?" I lean closer. "Wouldn't that be *so* disappointing though?"_

I’m sure my eyes have glazed over. “You - have a better idea?” I breathe.

_"I do... you'll do *exactly* what I say. When you have any doubts about whether you should be doing this - well, I have a man with a gun pointed at you, so you can't help but follow my orders, right? And I'm going to show you what being my man would be like... and afterwards, you decide. If you want to leave - fine. I'll get you some clothes, and you head off, and we settle our territorial differences the old-fashioned way._

_But I *think*, Sebastian... that you may want to stay..."_

_Being your man..._

Fuck -

I’m so in the moment, I can barely remember the last 30 years...

As far as I’m concerned, I’m a crime boss in the 1930s who’s desperate to be fucked by the man who outfoxed him.

“Think so?” I say, my voice sounding rough and breathy. “Well, seeing as I’m your prisoner for now... you obviously get to call the shots...”

_"I do, don't I... why don't you stand up, let me see the rest of that body... I *do* like what I've seen so far, but I can't wait to get a good look at that arse without trousers..."_

As I stand, my eyes slowly scan you up and down as if you’re the one who’s naked. Then I turn around, and look back over my shoulder. “I hope this meets with your approval?” I smirk.

_"I've seen worse. I'm also delighted to notice that, once you have permission to be, you are a rather shameless floozy..." I smile._

_I make a turning motion with your finger, and you turn back, facing me._

_"On your knees."_

Crime boss Sebastian is taken aback.

But your Husband Sebastian and Shameless Floozy Sebastian are _dying_ to know what’s in store...

The Crime Boss doesn’t stand a chance.

I sink to my knees. “So - this is what it’s like to be ‘your man’?” I ask, raising my chin as I stare up at you.

_"It is... and isn't it *bliss*?" I ask, as I stroke your jaw. "It's *so hard* to be the boss... having to think about everything, make all the decisions, be responsible, never have a moment off... that just isn't *you*, Sebastian. You have been told it's what you must strive for, but it is *so* tiring..."_

_I bend closer. "Isn't it delightful to be on your knees, a pawn in the hands of another, stronger man... being able to just *let go*, because nothing is in your hands any more. Just... kneeling and waiting for your orders... knowing that it may be painful, it may be humiliating, it may be hard... but it doesn't matter. Nothing matters, except sitting here and doing what you're told..."_

Jesus... it’s getting more and more challenging to stay somewhat in character and remain defiant. Because there’s a part of me that just wants to be dominated hard and fucked harder. And that part of me is getting louder and louder...

“Ohh... it’s hard alright...” I murmur, feeling my cock twitching. “But I’m starting to see the appeal...”

_"Do you want to see how hard?" I purr, stroking my crotch._

Would Crime Boss Sebastian shout “Fuck! Just - _give it to me!”_

Probably not yet...

Would this be his first contact with another man? Maybe not... but it likely would have been a good long while... the times being what they were.

“Yeah,” I mutter hoarsely. “I fucking do...”

_Jake has stopped giving instructions, he's just orbiting and taking pictures. I'm hardly aware of his presence, or the others - it's just you and me in an alternate timeline._

_I free my erection, see you lick your lips involuntarily - this is going to make a great picture; you naked on your knees, pleasuring me..._

_"Do you know how to serve a man, Sebastian...?"_

Crime Boss Sebastian is having a meltdown over being faced with the most beautiful cock in existence...

Unable to speak, I give a quick nod.

_I raise my eyebrows in surprise, then smile._

_"You better get to it, then..."_

My lips part. I move closer and take you in my mouth - hesitantly at first, and then growing more confident. I take the length of you in my mouth slowly, slowly - and then I slide back. I pause and unleash my stare at you - brimming with defiance, anger, and desire. Then I slowly begin to fellate you, aware of the soft clicks of the camera in the background.

I’ve never given a blow job in front of people unless they were _involved_ in some way. This feels more like a _performance_ \- and you were right. I _am_ a shameless floozy... I moan softly as I suck you harder.

_You're such a great actor, my dear... eyes furious, conflicted; mouth moving as if this is not something you've done thousands and thousands of times..._

_I lean my head back, my hand on your head - conscious of the light on us; this is going to be a magnificent picture. I might have to hang it in the bedroom..._

_I decide that this is enough. I am not going to fuck you here - somehow that's too intimate. And no more torture required - mob boss Moran was remarkably receptive to the significant charms of James Moriarty._

_Also, I'm not going to come - not in front of these people. My orgasm is just for you..._

_For now, we'll pretend._

_"That's it, my darling..." I say. "You're magnificent... but that will do. It's only acting after all... let's finish this with a kiss that is as passionate and promising as the one I exchanged with your good lady wife was perfunctory and fake."_

_I give you my hand, put my protesting cock away with promises of later, and grasp your hair, pull you down in a kiss._

I groan into your mouth as you kiss me. I barely heard a word you said. I think - we’re stopping now?

Fuck, I want you -

When you break off the kiss, I lean in and whisper into your ear. “How long before you _use me and take me?”_

_"As long as it takes to get to the hotel... I don't want to do that here. I love showing off, and it's hot having people watch and take pictures, but - that's too intimate.”_

“There are people here?” I mutter, making you laugh.

“Want you...” I breathe against your cheek. “But I can wait...”

_Oh my love... it appears I can still work my magic on you, regardless of circumstance._

_"Some bodyguard you are," I chuckle. "One pretty cock and you lose sight of the rest of the room..."_

“Mmnh... just one, gorgeous...” I murmur. “And I’d have to be in a coma to not be able to protect you in an instant...“

I glance up and see that Victoria and Jake are now standing at a polite distance, talking quietly to each other. The ‘bodyguard’ is turned away, pretending to study the labels of the boxes on the shelves, while the lightning guy is clearing away his equipment.

“I’d put on my trousers, but they appear to be cut into ribbons...” I say wryly.

_"I had planned on that," I grin, kiss you, then walk off to pick up a bag. "Here you go - less stylish than what you were wearing before, but it will protect your modesty."_

_You take out the set of your normal clothes that I packed, put them on, making the rest of the crew slightly less reluctant to acknowledge our presence._

_"That was *breathtaking*," Victoria gushes._

_She's blushing, looking slightly flustered. I have an inkling Jake may be in for a fun night..._

_"I think I got some really good shots there," he nods, all professional. "You're great models, both of you - the camera just loves you. Some people have that - like Victoria; it's impossible to get a bad picture of her."_

We promise to make plans again with Victoria before we head to Vegas. She’s looking quite flushed and keeps eyeing Jake hungrily.

I laugh and nudge her. “No need to be polite, dollface...”

“I’ve never seen anything so fecking hot in _my life!”_ she says, fanning herself theatrically. “You two!!”

Then she turns and flounces off. “Jake,” she calls. “Let’s _go_...”

I turn to you and kiss your lips. “I know a crime boss who’s more than ready for going somewhere private...” I growl against your neck.

_"Do you? Funny, I know one too... what are the odds..."_

_I lean in, growl into your ear. "We will continue this in my private chambers, Mr Moran..."_

_We all head out to our respective cars with some haste, it seems._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus endeth Book 1 of our retired murder husbands! 
> 
> We love them too much to abandon them, however - so see how they fare in the second book: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28794204/chapters/70613928

**Author's Note:**

> Playlist:
> 
> Bad Guy - The Interrupters  
> Runaway Love - Diamond Rings  
> My Day - Cosmo Jarvis  
> You're One - Imperial Teen  
> Forever Young - Alphaville  
> Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy - Queen  
> Dansmuziek - Doe Maar  
> Powerslave - Iron Maiden  
> When I'm Sixty-Four - The Beatles  
> I Don't Need Your Rocking Chair - George Jones  
> Turn! Turn! Turn! (To Everything There Is a Season) - The Byrds  
> 19 Somethin' - Mark Wills  
> As Good As I Once Was - Toby Keith  
> Landslide - Fleetwood Mac  
> A Man Who Was Gonna Die Young - Eric Church  
> 74 is the new 24 - Giorgio Moroder  
> 1979 - Smashing Pumpkins  
> I Will Follow You Into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie  
> Through the Years - Kenny Rogers  
> Still Crazy After All These Years - Paul Simon  
> Hazy Shade of Winter - The Bangles  
> Evening Gown - Mick Jagger  
> Yesterday When I Was Young - Dusty Springfield  
> I Love You Will Still Sound the Same - Oh Honey  
> My Way - Frank Sinatra  
> Young and Beautiful - Lana del Rey  
> Only Time - Enya  
> These Are the Days of Our Lives - Queen  
> The End of All Things - Panic! at the Disco  
> Crime - Temposhark  
> Lover of Mine - 5 Seconds of Summer  
> Disarm - The Smashing Pumpkins  
> I Will Still Love You - Britney Spears  
> Precious - Depeche Mode  
> Beat Your Heart Out - The Distillers  
> Happy Together - Filter  
> Opportunities - Pet Shop Boys  
> Somewhere Only We Know - Keane  
> You're Gonna Go Far, Kid - The Offspring  
> Stayin' Alive - Bee Gees  
> Chained to the Couch - The Devil Makes Three  
> Syrup and Honey - Duffy  
> Arrow (Ghosting Season Remix) - The Irrepressibles  
> Insight - Depeche Mode  
> Old Friends - Simon and Garfunkel  
> Good Vibrations - The Beach Boys  
> Aftermath - Muse  
> Stare Into the Sun - Savatage  
> Bury Me Face Down - Grandson  
> Mushroom Tea Girl - Spiritual Beggars  
> Never Walk Alone... A Call to Arms - Megadeth  
> Slave To Your Love - The Heavy  
> Psyche - Massive Attack  
> If I Didn't Have Your Love - Leonard Cohen  
> Praise You - Fatboy Slim  
> NYC Don't Mean Nothing - Savatage  
> Smooth Criminal - Michael Jackson  
> Nightmare (Chiller twist snowdrop remix)- Brainbug  
> Puttin' on the Ritz (Club Des Belugas Remix) - Fred Astaire, Club des Belugas  
> Pain - Boy Harsher  
> (I've Just Begun) Having My Fun - Britney Spears  
> Circus - Britney Spears  
> Toxic - Britney Spears  
> Killer Queen - Queen  
> Don't Stop Me Now - Queen  
> I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) - The Proclaimers  
> When the Crowds Are Gone - Savatage  
> S&M - Rihanna  
> Sharp Dressed Man - ZZ Top  
> My Love Will Never Die - AG and Claire Wyndham  
> Time - Pink Floyd  
> Demons - Imagine Dragons


End file.
